


Tangled (Up with You)

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, What Have I Done, like my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 16:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14336532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: Lucy wants just one adventure outside the tower she calls home.Wyatt is determined to prove himself as a royal guard.And Flynn just wants to steal enough money to buy his own private island.Now, their stories are about to collide, and new dreams are going to be forged. A Tangled AU.





	Tangled (Up with You)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know, this came to me and I shared it with captainofthefallen and she was like YES DO IT so I did it and here it is.

_“This… is the story of how I died.”_

_“Oh my God, don’t be so dramatic.”_

_“I’m just saying! But it’s okay, it all works out. Anyway, this story isn’t even really about me.”_

_“Or me.”_

_“It’s about a girl named Lucy.”_

 

* * *

 

Once, there was a beautiful land by the ocean. It had forested hills and deep calm waters and a large island just off of shore.

One day, as the moon was shining in the night sky, a piece of it fell off—or so it was said. That piece fell to the earth, and there it turned into a seed. And from that seed was born a beautiful flower. It blossomed in the moonlight, with gleaming silver petals that shimmered with a blue and purple gleam, and spots that looked like stars nestled at its heart.

This flower was spoken of for years as a rumor, a fairytale, but the story of it persisted. It was said to heal any wound, cure any ailment. And one day, after years of searching, it was found by a persistent witch named Carol—one of the members of the forbidden Rittenhouse coven.

But did this woman, when she found the flower, share its gift with the world?

Of course not. That was not the Rittenhouse way. The Rittenhouse way was for the strong to eliminate the weak, and for those in power to keep it. If you saw an advantage you took it and kept it for yourself and did not share it, for you would only be enabling the lines of weaker men to continue when they should be weeded out.

This witch hid the flower and kept it for many years. And whenever her youth began to fade, she sought it out and sang to it a special song.

When she sang that song, the magic of the plant was activated, and it reversed time for her—returned her youth to her.

And so it went for many years. The tiny island by the ocean was settled by people, and eventually a small but prosperous kingdom grew from it. The woman infiltrated the kingdom, and married its prince, becoming the queen.

Over time the woman gave birth to two daughters. The younger was precocious and blonde, and the older was very serious and brunette.

Her name was Lucy.

When she was just a small child still, Lucy fell gravely ill. No physicians could save her. None of those who practiced magic could help her—but they knew what might.

The flower.

The king, frantic, sent guards out all over the kingdom to find the flower. The queen did her best to keep the guards from finding it, for her youth and power were more important to her than her child—and besides, Lucy might yet recover.

But one determined young guard, Denise, still a new recruit… she found it.

She carefully transplanted the flower, taking care not to hurt the roots, and she hurried back to the kingdom.

There the flower was placed in a soup, and fed to the young Lucy.

She recovered almost at once, the flower healing her. But that was not all that the flower did. Her dark hair became darker, like the night sky. If you stared at it for too long, it was said you could see things in it—other worlds, perhaps, worlds that were once and worlds that might be.

The queen crept into her daughter’s room that night, singing the special song. Lucy’s hair glowed like moonlight, and tiny lights appeared in it—like stars.

 _Ah-ha_ , thought the queen. _All I must do now is cut the hair._

But when she cut a small lock of hair… the glow faded. The stars winked out. The hair was nothing. Like a flower without its root, it withered, no magic in it.

The queen knew that she could not keep the secret of her daughter’s miraculous hair forever. Others would see and know, and soon the whole kingdom would be lining up to seek healing from her daughter’s hair. And what did they deserve it for? The sickly and the poor, leeching off of others, stealing away what was rightfully hers?

And so she staged a kidnapping.

She paid an unscrupulous merchant by the name of Mason to help her arrange it. He spirited the young Lucy away to a tower far away, in a hidden valley, and there he held her for the queen. The queen cut herself, and tore her dress, and screamed for help—and no one thought for a moment that she had arranged it.

After a few years had passed, the queen took a potion that faked her death, and so she was mourned. It was said that she died of a broken heart from losing her daughter.

Now, she was free.

She busied herself with Rittenhouse work, but she made sure to visit Lucy every few days. As Lucy grew older, Carol was able to leave her alone for greater periods of time. It helped that Lucy was never alone. To reward him for his service to her, Carol turned Mason into a chameleon. Now her secret would always be safe, and Lucy would have a small pet to play with, although the young Lucy never guessed that her chameleon was the strange man who had looked after her those first couple of years.

And so Lucy grew older, trapped in her tower. She looked forward to the days when Mother would come home and Lucy would sing for her while Mother brushed her hair. Lucy never noticed how her mother coveted her hair, petted it, or how her hair kept her mother young. But then, she was a child, so much may be forgiven for that.

But no tower could keep everything out.

Every year, the king, with the help of Lucy’s younger sister, Princess Amy, would launch a lantern with the moon symbol on it—a plea for their lost princess to come home. It became a festival and everyone would launch a lantern. You would write your hopes and dreams on it, and hopefully they would come true.

And every year, Lucy watched those floating lights from her tower. They weren’t stars. She knew stars. None of her history books, brought to her by her mother and telling her of lands forgotten by time and far away, talked about floating lights. She had no idea what they could be.

But she was determined to find out.

The years passed, and Lucy grew up, devouring history, sketching in the journals her mother brought her, taking care of her hair.

And so it might have continued on…

Had not a certain thief decided to steal a crown.

 

* * *

 

Garcia Flynn stood at the edge of the castle, leaning nonchalantly against one of the turrets. He could see across the entire kingdom and the ocean from here.

“I could get used to a view like this.”

He probably would get a perfect view of sunset like this. Imagine if this was his bedroom window…

“I’m used to it. Emma. I want a castle.”

Emma, his new partner, snorted where she was kneeling over the roof. It had taken them many nights creeping up the castle walls to carefully carve out this section of the roof and turn it into a trap door. All of their months of work led up to this. If they’d measured the rope wrong, or it didn’t bear Flynn’s weight…

“Listen, we pull this off?” Emma said, quietly opening the trap door, “You can buy your own damn castle.”

“You know just what to say to motivate a guy,” Flynn replied. He grabbed the rope and secured it around his waist.

Meanwhile, down below, Wyatt Logan was not having the best of days.

He probably should’ve called off his shift, gotten Bam Bam or someone to cover it, but c’mon. Begging off a shift because of hay fever? How the hell was he supposed to impress Captain Christopher that way?

No. He would do his shift, guarding the crown jewels. There was a special exhibition of them on in the throne room to help raise funds for the poor. The star of the exhibition was undoubtedly the tiara of the lost Princess Lucy. Aside from being beautiful, made with pearls and sapphires and diamonds that made it look like pieces of stars and moonlight, it had the whole lost princess legend going for it. Everyone was clamoring to see it.

Wyatt felt bad for the royal family—specifically Queen Amy. Losing your own sister when you’re just a toddler, then your mom soon after, and then, just this year, your father? Inheriting a kingdom all alone? That had to suck.

But they all had their duty. Wyatt had his: be the best damn palace guard there was. Someday, he’d be captain, just like Captain Christopher. When she retired, of course. He had nothing but respect for her. After all, she’d been the one to take him in and give him a purpose after Jess had died. He owed her everything.

Wyatt sneezed. Ugh.

“Hay fever?” someone said in a low, charming voice.

“Ugh, yeah.”

Wait.

Wyatt whipped around in time to see a man being raised up a rope—Princess Lucy’s tiara in his hand.

Oh fuck. There was only one thief who’d be so blatant, so daring.

“Guards!” Wyatt yelled. “Guards! It’s him! It’s Flynn!”

Emma hauled Flynn back up onto the roof. He handed her the tiara and she stuffed it into her satchel. “We gotta go.”

“Can’t you picture me in a castle?” Flynn asked. “Because I sure can.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Is this really the time?”

“Oh, lighten up, Emma, what’s the point of this if you can’t have fun doing it?”

Emma pointed behind him at the guards who were yelling and making their way towards them.

Ah, right.

They took off running. Flynn couldn’t help but grin. “Oh, the things we’ve seen and it’s only eight in the morning!”

“Would you shut up?”

 

* * *

 

Lucy sighed, surveying the small tower that she’d always called home.

She’d done some light cleaning, since she’d found that if she swept and such a bit each morning, it meant she didn’t have to spend all day doing it once a week.

She’d eaten breakfast. Sketched in her journal. Read her history books—again. She’d even brushed all of her hair, which was now so long that it ran crisscross all over the tower, cascading down the stairs and draping over furniture.

“Hey, Mason?”

Mason, her tiny chameleon, poked his head out from where he’d been napping in a pile of clean laundry.

“You want to play hide and seek?”

Mason shook his head.

“Aww, c’mon!”

Mason poked his tail at her as if to say _you always win_.

“Please?” Lucy pouted at him. “Best 27 out of 48?”

Mason shook his head.

Lucy groaned and slumped into a chair. “Mason, please. There’s nothing to do in this place!”

Mason flushed blue apologetically, then yellow excitedly. He crawled over to the window, the one point of entry into the tower, and pointed downward with his tail.

“No.” Lucy shook her head. “Mother would kill me.”

Mason glared. He’d made it very clear over the years, despite his inability to speak, just what he thought of Mother.

Lucy sighed. “It’s not so bad in here, Mason.” It sounded almost as though she were trying to convince herself more than her pet. “Do you think… maybe… this year she’ll say yes?”

Mason turned purple and tilted his head to the side as if to say, _you’ll have to actually ask her to find out._

Every year, she had wanted to ask Mother if she could go and see the floating lights. She had no idea what they were. None of her astronomy charts or her history books explained what they were—and she’d read a _lot_ of history books. But every year she had been too scared. Mother was… a strong personality. She was the kind of person that you found it hard to stand up to.

But no. This year, she was going to be strong. This year she was going to actually ask her.

As if on cue, she heard her mother’s voice calling to her from down below.

“Lucy!” Mother called in her sing-song voice. “Lucy, let down your hair!”

“Mother!”

Lucy hurried to obey, flinging her hair over a hook and then flinging it out the window, where it flowed down for her mother to grab.

Lucy used her hair like a pulley, hauling her mother up into the tower. It was the only way for anyone to get in or out. There were no doors, and none of the other windows opened up.

“Oh, Lucy,” her mother said, stepping inside through the window. She gently cupped Lucy’s face, examining her. “I don’t know how you do that every time, hauling me up here, it must be exhausting.”

“It’s no big deal,” Lucy said, smiling. Praise from Mother was so rare, she clung to every morsel. Mother was the kind of person where you had to really earn praise. Not that Lucy minded—it gave her something to work for, and she understood that you had to work to earn people’s respect.

“Then I don’t know why it takes so long,” Mother said, smiling at her and patting her on the head.

Lucy could feel herself deflating. She should’ve known the praise was just a setup for disappointment. It felt a lot of the time like nothing she ever did was good enough for Mother. She wasn’t knowledgeable enough about history. She had no talent for magic the way her mother did—“given your bloodline, Lucy, I’m quite surprised and saddened… but of course you didn’t _choose_ to let me down, dear”—and she was too clumsy, her sketches too juvenile, her efforts mediocre.

Sometimes she wondered why she tried at all.

No. She squared her shoulders. She was going to try asking her mother about the floating lights. She had nothing to lose, right?

“Mother… I was wondering…”

“Darling, I’m rather tired.” Mother sank into a chair. “It’s quite a lot of work running a coven, you know. I don’t suppose you could sing to me?”

Oh. Of course. “Certainly, Mother.”

Singing always put Mother in a good mood. Lucy settled her mother better in the chair, got a footstool for herself to sit on, and handed her mother the hairbrush.

“Flower, gleam and glow. Let your power shine. Make the clock reverse. Bring back what once was mine.” Perhaps she was singing a little quickly, but she wanted to hurry up and get to the conversation. She was filled with anticipation, like she was on a galloping horse, all of her fear and hope bubbling up in her veins. If she didn’t ask now, who knew when she’d have the courage again?

“Lucy, honestly.” Mother grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around. “You’re singing like it’s a race. What on earth has gotten into you?”

Lucy took a deep breath. “Mother. I know that you said I can’t ever leave this tower…”

“And you can’t.”

“But, what if I could? Just once?”

She hurried to her journal and opened it up, showing it to her mother. “Look. I’ve sketched them—every year those floating lights appear. On the same day, I’ve recorded it. Like a proper historian.”

“So you see a strange star formation, dear, I really don’t see—”

“No, Mother, they’re not stars. I’ve charted stars, and these aren’t it. I know you want to keep me safe but if you accompany me… if I go disguised, or something… could you take me to see them? What these floating lights are?”

Mother sighed heavily. “How many times have I had to handle your ridiculous curiosity, Lucy? If it weren’t for my love and protection you’d have gotten yourself killed ages ago following one shiny thing after the next. Do you know how many times I’ve had to throw people off the scent, people who want to take you away and use your powers?”

Lucy swallowed down the guilt that threatened to bubble up. “I know, Mother, and I’m grateful to you. So grateful. But I really think that if we’re smart about it, we’ll be all right—you have magic, after all, and—”

“Lucy. The answer is no.” Mother stood up. “Do you really think you could handle the outside world? Look at you. My little flower. So fragile. You know nothing of the awful place that it is out there. If the world was the way it was supposed to be… but it’s not. There are ruffians running about everywhere, acting as though they own the place. Taking whatever they desire. I could never forgive myself if I let you out and something happened to you.”

“But I’m an adult!” Lucy gestured at herself. “Mother, I’m a grown woman! Surely I can handle myself.”

“I promise you, you can’t.” Mother shook her head. “You’re so naïve, Lucy, and you can’t even see it.”

“But—”

“My answer is no, Lucy.”

Lucy could feel herself deflating. She looked over at Mason, who turned dark blue in sympathy.

Mother sighed. She walked over, tipping Lucy’s chin up. “I love you very much dear.”

“I love you more.”

Mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you most. Now!” she added brightly. “I’ll be off.”

“But you just got here.”

“There’s so much to do in the coven, you know that dear. I’ll be back tomorrow though, don’t you worry!”

Lucy sighed. Mother used to spend so much more time with her, teaching her about history and all. But now she only stopped by once a day, sometimes only once every few days. Lucy didn’t know what it could be, except that perhaps it was something she had done wrong, something to make Mother unhappy with her.

Asking to see the floating lights probably hadn’t helped.

Mother stepped onto the windowsill. “Now, don’t pout dear, it gives you lines. You’ll look like an old woman soon!” Mother laughed lightly at her own joke. “Now, do something useful while I’m gone, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, and Lucy?”

“Yes, Mother?”

Mother’s eyes flashed. “Don’t ever ask to leave this tower again.”

Lucy could feel the chill in her mother’s voice. “Y-yes Mother.”

“Good.” And just like that everything was fine again, Mother was smiling at her, all cheerfulness. “Ta-ta!”

And she was gone.

Lucy sighed, collapsing into a chair. Dealing with her mother took all of her energy right out. Mason crawled over, curling up on the back of her hand and patting her encouragingly.

“I’m sorry Mason. I guess I’m just stuck here after all.”

If only she could prove to her mother that she was an adult, that she could take care of herself—then perhaps Mother would take her to see the floating lights.

If only.

 

* * *

 

The palace guards were right on their tail. “This is why we should have horses!” Emma yelled.

“Next time if you want a horse, you can pay for it yourself!” Flynn shot back.

“This is your fault. If you hadn’t said anything to that damn guard—”

“All right, all right, it’s my fault, fine, sue me.”

They dodged and leapt over buildings, heading out of the city and into the forest. They had the advantage now, using the buildings, but once they got out into nature the guards on their horses would be able to overtake them.

Especially that one in the lead, the one with the hay fever. He was actually kind of handsome, if Flynn thought about it.

Not that he was thinking about it.

“Stop!” the guard yelled, as if that ever worked. “In the name of the queen!”

“Sorry handsome, already got a hot date,” Flynn yelled back.

“Stop flirting with the enemy!” Emma hissed.

“That—I was not—that wasn’t flirting—”

“Whatever you say, Flynn, just focus.”

They were so busy running, trying to keep ahead of the guards thundering behind them, that neither of them saw the way the road curved sharply to the left.

Emma screamed and they stumbled into one another, tripping, scrambling. Emma ended up hanging off the edge, clinging for dear life, while Flynn managed to keep himself on the road.

“Help me up!” Emma yelled. “Flynn!”

Flynn gave a martyred sigh. “I’d love to, but…” he held up the satchel he’d gotten from Emma during their stumbling. “My hands are full.”

He winked and dashed off into the forest.

“Flynn!” Emma yelled, her voice filled with fury.

Flynn’s lungs were burning, his chest heaving, but he didn’t care. He’d gotten that annoying Emma off his back and had the tiara all to himself. This could finally set him up for life. He could get that small island away from the rest of humanity, spend his remaining days alone the way he’d been yearning for since—since—

Someone landed into him with a flying tackle and they both went sprawling.

Flynn and the other person scrambled to his feet.

It was the palace guard.

“Well, hey, handsome,” Flynn said, grinning.

“First of all, it’s Logan, not handsome,” the other man replied. “Second of all, hand it over.”

“Hand what over?” Flynn asked, affecting innocence.

“The tiara!” Logan barked.

Flynn shook his head. “No can do, Logan. You sure you don’t prefer handsome? Maybe sweetheart?”

“I’m not a girl in one of those ridiculous romantic thief books,” Logan growled. “You can’t win me over with a stupid line. Now give me the tiara.”

“Or what? You’ll make me? You’re welcome to try.”

Logan leapt at him, but Flynn dodged, raising his foot to trip Logan up. Logan managed to catch Flynn’s foot and used it to throw Flynn over his head, sending Flynn tumbling. Flynn grappled him but hadn’t quite realized they were on a hill.

They both rolled over and over, under and over one another, trying to get as many punches in as they could along the way. When they finally crashed to the bottom of the hill Flynn jumped to his feet, Logan not far behind him.

Flynn tried to punch him, but Logan ducked underneath, hitting Flynn with an uppercut. Flynn staggered backwards, and Logan grabbed him, trying to force his arm behind his back. “I’m arresting you in the name of—”

Flynn headbutted him. Logan released his arm and went reeling backwards. “Son of a—”

Flynn took off while Logan was still blinking the stars out of his eyes.

He knew the guard wouldn’t be far behind him. He was a persistent one, Flynn had to give him that. It was darker in this part of the forest, the trees providing plenty of shade. It made it hard to see where he was going. He ran his hand along the wall of the cliff, trying to feel his way—

The wall disappeared and Flynn fell to the side, sprawling.

What the hell?

He sat up, looking around.

This part of the wall wasn’t rock at all. The curtain of ivy covered a concealed opening.

Huh.

Flynn could hear Logan tramping around out there. The rest of the guards, including Captain Christopher, would be around soon. It looked like he had no choice but to explore this tunnel and see where it led.

It wasn’t a long tunnel, and when it opened up…

Wow.

There was a whole valley in here. A beautiful one, with a waterfall and a stream and flowers everywhere. What an idyllic spot.

Hell, if he wasn’t determined to put an entire ocean between himself and the rest of the world, he might even consider this spot for his new retreat once he sold the tiara.

Climbing the tower was a bitch. Whoever’d built this thing knew what they were doing, but fortunately over time enough flowers had climbed their way up—morning glory, orchids, ivy—that they’d bitten into the rock, made little grooves and chinks that he could work his daggers into, making handholds.

It was a tough climb, no denying that. This was a damn tall tower. But at last he reached the one open window.

It was a quaint little place. Small, but nicely furnished. Someone had painted some kind of history timeline all over the walls. It looked like it even had a working kitchen. Thank God.

He opened the satchel just to double check, and—yup, the tiara was still safe and sound.

Flynn heaved a sigh of relief. “Alone at la—”

Someone clocked him on the back of the head and all went dark.

 

* * *

 

Lucy had no idea what to do when she heard someone entering the tower. She pressed herself back against the curved wall of the kitchen that went underneath the stairs. There, in the shadows, she could see the person slip in through the open window.

How had they found her? How had they gotten into the valley?

The person stood up—it was a man, and a tall one at that. Oh, no. Oh no. This must be one of the ruffians her mother had warned her about. The people who were after her hair.

The reason she’d had to stay in the tower.

She grabbed the nearest item—her frying pan, left on the rack to dry after breakfast—and held it aloft.

The man’s back was to her. She crept up quietly, knowing exactly where to step so that she didn’t make any noise.

She’d never hurt anyone before. She didn’t like the idea. But how could she do anything else? This man looked rough, rugged, and he had about a foot on her. He could easily take her in a fight.

Lucy raised the frying pan and brought it down hard on the back of the man’s head.

He went down like a sack of potatoes.

Lucy screamed, jumping backwards.

He didn’t move.

“Mason!” she hissed. “Mason look!”

The chameleon looked. Hissed. Went back to hiding.

“You’re no help.”

Lucy looked around. What could she do? She couldn’t just leave him there on the floor. There was under her bed… but how to get him upstairs? There was nowhere else…

Now, wait. The closet. Perfect.

Now she just had to figure out how to get him in there.

Picking him up didn’t work. She’d never been weak, exactly. She would climb all over the place, using her hair.

But this guy was _tall_. Dammit. How was she supposed to get this done?

Maybe if she just… tied him up in her hair and swung him…?

Mason eventually emerged from his hiding place on the back of the chair but only so that he could laugh at her. Mason couldn’t laugh, exactly, but he had this way of sort-of smiling that definitely looked like a smirk. It told her plainly that the chameleon was laughing at her inwardly.

“I don’t see you doing much to help,” she snapped at him.

She was pretty sure she’d given the poor guy a concussion by the time she was finished. But she got him into the closet.

“Yes!” she shrieked, jumping up and pumping her fists in the air. “Mason, look, I did it!”

Mason looked thoroughly unimpressed with her, as if to say _okay, now what will you do_?

…that was a good question, actually. What was she supposed to do now?

There was a person in her closet.

There was a _person_ in her closet.

There was. A person. In her _closet_!

Lucy screamed again, just because she could. She’d done it! So what, Mother thought she couldn’t handle herself? Mother thought she was weak? Mother thought she was naïve?

Well, screw you, Mother!

She’d just knocked out a six foot tall however many inches man and put him in her closet!

Oh, wait.

Lucy ran, double checked the closet was locked.

Okay, phew. Man was safely locked in her closet.

“Lucy!”

Mother was certainly back early.

“Lucy, let down your hair!”

Twice in one day? Perhaps Mother cared after all?

Lucy let her hair down and helped to carry Mother up. “You’re back so soon!”

“Well, I thought I would give you a little surprise.”

“I have a surprise for you too!” Once she showed Mother that she’d safely apprehended this ruffian, she’d be sure to let Lucy see the floating lights. Ha.

“I bet mine’s bigger!” Mother said, smiling.

“I seriously doubt it,” Lucy muttered.

“Ta-da!” Mother said as she stepped in, holding out what looked like a beautiful bound book. “It’s a journal where every date has an interesting historical fact. I saw it and thought, oh, that’s perfect for my Lucy. You’re always sketching and writing.”

“Thank you.” Lucy clutched the journal to her chest. It was beautiful, and full of historical facts, and—really, just the sort of thing she loved. It was things like this that reminded her that Mother did love her, she really did.

“So, Mother, about… about the lights…”

“I thought we had ended the matter, dear,” Mother said, going into the kitchen to put some food in the cupboards, restocking.

“Right, um, no, not exactly.” More like you just yelled at me, Lucy thought but didn’t dare say. “It’s just, you said that I couldn’t handle myself…”

“Because I know that you can’t.”

Lucy edged towards the closet. All she had to do was throw it open and show her the man and Mother would see, she’d have to. “I get that, but actually—”

“Lucy!”

Mother’s voice was like thunder. She twisted around, her face red and eyes blazing with rage.

Lucy shrank back, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. It had been a long time, perhaps even a year, since Mother had been this angry, but the memory of those times ran deep. Lucy all but cowered, feeling small, feeling childish for feeling small, feeling like she should be braver, she should fight back, but she couldn’t—all she could feel was fear freezing her to the spot.

“You are never leaving this tower,” Mother spat. “Ever!”

Lucy could feel tears pricking her eyes and hated herself for feeling that way. “Y-yes,” she whispered.

Mother sighed, collapsing into a chair. “Great. Now I’m the bad guy.”

Lucy hastily wiped at her eyes while Mother wasn’t looking. Mother hated crying. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She should have known better than to broach the subject again. She shouldn’t have made Mother angry. It was all her fault.

Mother sighed and stood up. “You know, I do so hate when we argue. Especially when I’ve done nothing wrong. You know better than to push me, Lucy.”

Lucy nodded. She did know better. It was wrong of her to touch on a subject that she knew would upset Mother.

Mother cupped Lucy’s face gently in her hands. Lucy had to force herself not to flinch. “I’m off to handle some Rittenhouse Coven business. I’ll be back in three days. While I’m gone I’d like you to think about your behavior and how you can do better, all right?”

Lucy nodded.

Mother kissed the top of her head. “I love you very much dear.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

Then she was gone, out the window.

Lucy stared after her, only crying once Mother was out of sight. What was she supposed to do now?

Especially about the man still sitting in her closet.

But wait.

Lucy went over to the satchel of his that she’d hidden in one of the pots. Inside was a torn-up wanted poster, on which was printed the picture of the man in her closet—Flynn. Wanted for grand theft, multiple counts, destruction of property, and suspected of murder.

Oh God and this guy was in her _closet_?

There was also something else.

Lucy pulled it out. This was a tiara. It was beautiful. Jewels in shades of blue and white and clear, like pieces of moonlight frozen into solid shapes.

She really couldn’t help herself. She stood in front of the mirror and put the tiara on.

Oh, it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It didn’t look at all right sitting on the head of a too-slim, too-tiny, thin-faced girl with a big mouth and pale, uninteresting features. It belonged on someone beautiful. Someone who was confident, who knew what she was doing. Someone powerful.

Lucy had never felt confident or powerful in her life.

She looked over at Mason. He always hid when Mother was around but crawled back out the second she left. “What do you think?”

Mason gave her a sharp, approving nod.

“You’re just being kind.” Mother had told Lucy all the time about what a shame that Lucy didn’t look like her—brown hair instead of blonde, too dark eyes, too small face, too… too everything. Either not enough or too much.

Plain, her mother said. Plain old Lucy.

She all but yanked the tiara off her head, stuffing it back inside the satchel where it couldn’t mock her. She put the satchel inside of her sewing basket with her rolls of yarn. Perfect.

So, this Garcia Flynn was an outlaw. A thief. He’d want that tiara back, certainly. And he’d want her to keep her mouth shut about where he was.

Perhaps a bargain could be struck.

According to the calendar she’d painted on the walls, the floating lights would be tomorrow night. That should give her plenty of time to get this Flynn person to escort her to the floating lights, see them, and then return before Mother got back.

But that would mean she actually had to deal with Flynn.

Lucy took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She wanted to do something for herself for once. She wanted to do something that wasn’t following orders. She wanted to break some rules. She was always talking to herself and to Mason about being more independent and standing up to Mother, wasn’t she?

The time had come to prove it.

 

* * *

 

Flynn woke up with a massive fucking headache.

What the fuck… had Emma found him? Tracked him down and was going to stab him or something for running out on her? He couldn’t blame her. But then what had she expected? He’d cheated his last three partners out of the bounty as well.

He tried to move—and found that he couldn’t.

He looked down.

He was tied to a chair with—

“What the fuck.”

He tried wiggling. No dice. This… was this…

“Is this hair?”

Oh, this was definitely going to get a spot on his Top Ten Weirdest Days list.

“What do you want?”

Flynn’s head snapped up. Bad decision, that made his headache worse. “Who’s there?” he growled.

“Why are you here?” the person demanded. It was a woman, and one on the young side judging by the pitch of her voice. “How did you find me?”

“I’m sorry, who the hell are you?”

The person emerged from the shadows slowly. Flynn took in first small bare feet, then a dark red skirt, then hands clutching the handle of a—a goddamn frying pan, what the fuck—a white and red blouse, and then…

A very, very pretty girl.

She looked about… eighteen?

He silently prayed she was legal, although God knew he was going to Hell for a number of perfectly valid reasons already.

She looked at him quizzically, like he was an artifact she was studying. She had very dark, very intense eyes. And hair that was…

Um. Hair that was the same color as the hair binding him to the chair.

Flynn looked from the hair at the chair, followed it up, around the rafters, down the stairs, right up to…

The girl.

This girl had hair that was at _least_ twenty feet long?

What. The fuck. Seriously.

This hair didn’t look normal, either. If he stared at it for too long it felt like he was starting to see things in it. Like splashes of colored shadows on shadows, an image at the bottom of a dark pond.

Yeah, creepy.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” the girl replied. “What matters is that you’re Flynn. The thief. So tell me. What brought you here, how did you find me? And what do you want with my hair?”

“Okay, wait, wait, wait, hold on a second. Your hair? I mean it’s pretty but what the fuck would I want with your hair?” Flynn tried wiggling out of the hair binding him again. “The only thing I want with your hair is to get out of it. _Literally_.”

The girl frowned at him, looking confused. The frying pan lowered a bit. “Wait. You’re not here to cut my hair?”

“Why. Would I want. To cut your hair.”

“No reason,” the girl said quickly.

“Okay, listen.” Flynn froze. Oh no. Oh, fuck no. “Where is my satchel?”

The girl looked smug, but Flynn saw how her eyes darted to the side, towards a small sewing basket. “It’s hidden where you’ll never find it.”

Flynn raised his eyebrows. “It’s in that basket over there, isn’t it.”

The girl looked at the basket. Looked at him. Looked at the basket.

Everything went dark again.

 

* * *

 

Flynn was woken up this time to something very disgusting and slimy in his ear.

He looked to the side—and saw a goddamn frog-lizard creature sticking his tongue in Flynn’s _ear_.

“Fuck!” Flynn yelped. The tiny creature made a startled noise and jumped, falling to the floor.

“Mason!” the girl gasped, picking the tiny creature up.

“You’re worried about him? He chose to do that! I’m the victim here!”

“You’re a thief, you should be in prison,” the girl replied. “So, Mr. Flynn.”

“Just Flynn is fine.” Nothing like a ‘mister’ to make you feel like thirty-six instead of twenty-six. Although most of the time, Flynn felt like he’d lived three times that long and was already past seventy.

“Flynn. You want your satchel back, don’t you?” the girl asked. “I’ve really hidden it where you’ll never find it this time.”

“You wanna bet?” Flynn asked.

The girl advanced on him, holding her frying pan aloft. Jesus Christ, was that what she had knocked him out with? “You can tear this place apart if you want. Stone by stone. Rip it to pieces with your bare hands. Call in some friends if you feel like it. But you’re not going to find your satchel. Not unless I tell you where it is.”

“And what do I need to do to get it back?” Flynn asked. He wasn’t above bargaining.

The girl smiled, albeit grimly. “Turns out, I need some help. And you’re going to give it to me. Because something brought you here, Flynn. Call it what you will—fate, destiny…”

“An annoyingly persistent palace guard,” Flynn grumbled.

“But you’re here. And we can help each other out. And so I have decided to trust you.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

The girl pointed up at something on the wall. “Every year, tomorrow night, the floating lights appear in the sky. Do you know of them?”

Flynn thought for a moment. Floating lights… “Oh, you mean that floating lantern thing they do for the princess?”

“Lanterns?” the girl gasped excitedly. It was pretty adorable. But then she composed herself. “Yes. Well. You will take me to these lanterns. And then you will escort me home. Then, and only then, will you get your satchel back.”

“You do realize this little festival takes place in the city, right? The city where there will be guards looking for me all over the place? It’s not exactly in my favor to go back there.”

“And what are you going to do without your satchel? Hmm?” The girl folded her arms. “Not a whole lot of fancy tiaras just lying around for people to take. You could always plan another theft, I suppose, but wouldn’t you rather do this? Just three days of simple, easy work, and then you get your ticket to the high life.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes at the girl. She was clearly intelligent, but there was something very earnest about her that just made him want to help her. He hadn’t met a whole lot of earnest people lately—people who had a passion and truly believed in it, who offered up a deal and stuck to it, who believed in the goodness of others. Hell, Flynn certainly wasn’t one of those people. He was a backstabbing thief who just wanted to make enough money to purchase land far, far away from the next living soul.

“Look, girlie, do yourself a favor.”

“My name isn’t ‘girlie’.”

“Well then what is it?”

“Lucy.”

“Lucy.” Flynn tried the name out on his tongue. He liked it. A classic name. It fit her. “Lucy. Listen. You should do yourself a favor and just stay here.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you’re ten times safer in here then you’ll ever be out there.” Flynn jerked his head towards the open window. “Look, out there? People are dying, sweating, swearing out their miserable little lives. They’re pissing each other off. They’re lying and cheating and stealing and murdering. Here? Away from all of that? I’d call it heaven.”

“And I call it a cage.” Lucy held her frying pan aloft like she might hit him with it a third time. “You can try and tell me off all you want. You don’t scare me and neither does the world. I’m going to see those floating lights and you’re going to take me.”

Flynn weighed his options. On the one hand, if he kept resisting, he’d end up stuck in this goddamn chair for who knew how long. On the other hand, if he agreed, or at least pretended to agree, he could ditch Lucy at the first opportunity.

He looked up at her face again. She was trying to look bold and confident but he could see the hesitance in her eyes, the way her hands shook slightly as she held the frying pan.

He couldn’t just abandon her out there. God knew what could happen to her.

But, if he agreed, and took her out there… possibly he could persuade her to abandon this whole idea. A lot could happen on the way to the city.

Flynn sighed. “All right. Fine. I’ll take you to see the lights.”

“Really?” Lucy smiled at him, her entire face lighting up, and Flynn felt warm blossom in his chest.

Nope, nope, he was steadfastly ignoring that.

“Yes, really.”

Lucy set down her frying pan and set about untying him. “Thank you so much, this is going to be amazing.”

Flynn seriously doubted that. “Don’t mention it.” He paused. “No, really, don’t mention it, I’ll get arrested.”

Lucy finished getting all the hair off of him. “I’ve never been outside before. Is there anything I should pack?”

Flynn looked at her feet. “You should probably wear shoes.”

“Oh, right!” Lucy dashed upstairs.

Flynn set the chair aside, stepping around the hair, and looked around the room. The walls were covered in paintings, mostly of what looked like historical events or figures. There was a huge timeline painted that circled all the way around the room. The shelves were covered in books on history.

Looked like Lucy was quite the bookworm.

Flynn caught sight of that damn chameleon staring at him from the table. Like that wasn’t creepy or anything. “What’s your problem?”

The chameleon glared at him more intensely.

Great, he was anthropomorphizing a chameleon and talking to it. Clearly he was starting to officially go insane.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Lucy said, thundering down the stairs. She had shoes on, and a sweater, and was carrying a journal with the frying pan tucked under her arm.

“Really? You’re bringing a journal.”

“I always bring a journal,” Lucy replied, in the same tone one might use to say ‘I always sleep at night’. It implied that everybody did it and Flynn was weird not to.

Flynn sighed and just crossed over to the window. This girl was cute but it was pretty clear she was going to need a lot of protecting. He’d have his work cut out for him.

He climbed out the window and started to climb down the same way he’d gotten up. A moment later he paused.

Looked up. “You coming, Lucy?”

He almost yelped as all of that hair was thrown out the window, nearly smacking him in the face. It created a long, dark waterfall that flowed from the window to the ground.

A moment later Lucy appeared. She grabbed the hair—Flynn could see now it was hooked over some kind of rod sticking out over the window—and swung down it. Like it was a vine or something.

Holy crap.

He watched, despite the ache in his arms, as Lucy came to a halt about a foot above the ground. He couldn’t see her face but he watched as she hesitated. Stared at the grass.

“C’mon,” he found himself whispering. “You can do it.”

Slowly, very slowly, Lucy reached her foot down and set it on the grass.

Flynn slowly let his breath out.

Lucy suddenly gave a shriek of delight and began running around. She stripped off her shoes and went wading into the creek. She buried her face in the flowers. She jumped up and down on the grass.

Flynn realized that he was smiling down at her. She was odd, this Lucy, but something in him drew him to her. Made him want to protect her.

Oh man. He was in so much trouble.

 

* * *

 

This was the best day _ever_.

She was finally out of the tower! She was going to see the floating lights! She was finally, finally having an adventure, just like the kinds she’d read about in her history books.

It felt like she couldn’t run fast enough, couldn’t feel everything fast enough, couldn’t soak it all in as quickly and as much as she wanted to. Everything she’d only seen from her high-up window was now up close, real, vibrant and just there for her to touch.

She could hardly believe it. It felt like a dream, only better.

Oh, she couldn’t wait to tell Mother—

But wait.

She couldn’t tell Mother. Mother would be furious with her, she’d be so upset and worried, she’d…

Oh God. This would kill her.

Lucy had to go back. She just had to. How could she betray Mother like this? After all that Mother had done for her?

Lucy mentally shook herself. No, what the hell, she wasn’t going to back out now. Not now when she was so close to her goal. Hell, she might not ever go back to that damn tower. Not now that she knew what open air and space and freedom felt like.

But wasn’t it wrong of her to go behind someone’s back like this? To lie and betray their trust? Mother was trusting her to obey and to stay at home. She was breaking that promise between them.

Lucy sat down on a rock. These woods were absolutely beautiful. She wanted to stay in them forever. But maybe she should just go back. Maybe…

“I can’t help but notice you seem to be of two minds about this.”

She looked up. Flynn was nonchalantly leaning against a boulder, arching his eyebrows at her like this was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

Lucy glared at him. “I suppose it wouldn’t even occur to you to lose sleep over betraying someone’s trust.”

“Have I lost any sleep?” Flynn thought for a moment. “No, no I don’t think I have.”

“Just my luck,” Lucy grumbled. “I finally get a guide to take me to the city and he’s a goddamn psychopath.”

“Looked in the satchel did you?” Flynn asked. “Saw the wanted poster?”

“Yes. Tell me, how many murders are you suspected of?”

“I haven’t killed anybody,” Flynn all but spat. Then he relaxed, as though he were forcing himself to let go of his anger. “I have stolen quite a lot, though. And I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Says you.”

“Yes, says me. Listen, you look upset about this whole… mother-daughter thing. Betraying her and going behind her back and breaking all of that trust you put in her.” Flynn sat down next to her. “So why don’t you do yourself a favor and just… go on back home? You get a relationship based on mutual trust, I get my satchel, and we part as unlikely friends.”

Lucy glared at him. “I’m going to see the floating lights, Flynn. And you’re going to help me.”

“God knows why,” Flynn mumbled. “When you’re skittish about—”

A small creature—a rabbit—jumped out of the bushes and hopped past them.

Lucy, to her own dismay, screamed in fear and surprise.

Flynn stared at her. “Careful,” he said, deadpan, “they can smell fear.”

“Oh, sarcasm, real appreciated.”

Flynn sighed, standing up again and offering his hand to her. Lucy took it, letting him pull her to her feet. “You’re really determined to go and see these damn lanterns?”

“Yes.”

Flynn pushed a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe I’m… all right. Listen. That tiara? Is a pretty damn big deal. This forest is crawling with guards right now looking for me. So we’re going to go to this place I know, and talk to some old associates of mine.”

“Associates?”

“People I might or might not have worked with in the past,” Flynn said cryptically. Lucy had a feeling he was subtly telling her not to ask any more questions. “If we play our cards right, they’ll get us safely through the forest to the city. I’m pretty sure the guards won’t be as bad there, they’ll think I’ve already left.”

Lucy couldn’t stop the smile that spread over her face. “Thank you.”

Flynn rolled his eyes. “Don’t get all sappy on me.”

“Yes but… I know you’re risking yourself to help me with this. So thank you.”

“You have my satchel. It’s not exactly out of the kindness of my heart.”

Lucy shrugged. She was starting to get a feeling that underneath his cranky exterior, Flynn wasn’t all that bad. The fact was, he could’ve killed her and searched the tower for his satchel if he’d really wanted to. He could have gotten her lost in these woods and then doubled back to search for his tiara. But he was sticking with her, even though he didn’t have to, and she’d honestly be pretty easy to double cross and/or overpower.

There was more to Flynn than met the eye, and Lucy was finding herself curious.

“Okay then,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Let’s go meet up with these friends of yours.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was going to be in so much trouble.

He’d had Flynn right there, literally had his hands on him, and he’d let him get away!

Thank God nobody had been around to actually see that blunder. But that was the whole thing—how was it a blunder?

How had he messed up?

One minute, he’d been hot on Flynn’s tail. The guy was just out of sight but Wyatt could hear his feet thudding on the ground ahead of him and the rustle of bushes and grass as Flynn blew past.

The next minute… nothing.

Flynn had disappeared into thin air.

He’d lost sight of the guy for about thirty seconds and in those scant thirty seconds, Flynn had gone.

Now Wyatt was going around in circles like an idiot.

Where could he have gone? Did he somehow manage to scurry up a tree?

He kicked a rock in frustration. That was a mistake. “Ouch!”

Unknown to him, the sound caught the attention of Carol.

She gasped. A palace guard. What was one doing all the way out here in the forest?

Guards didn’t go out on their own. They always traveled in pairs.

Lucy!

Wyatt heard something or someone moving behind him. He whipped around. “Flynn?”

There was no one.

For fuck’s sake, he was hearing things now.

Wyatt squared his shoulders. Right. He was not going to go back to Captain Christopher with his tail between his legs. He was going to capture Flynn if he died in the process.

 

* * *

 

Lucy was feeling a little unsure of this whole thing as Flynn led her to the tavern. It was a rundown looking kind of place backed up against the mountains, with a ramshackle sign that said _Mutterschiff._

“Are you sure about this?” Lucy asked. She didn’t want to seem… cowardly or anything. She wanted to prove that she could handle this, that she was capable. Not just to Flynn but to herself. After all, she doubted there was any point in impressing someone like Flynn. But if she was going to betray her mother’s trust, then she wanted to be able to at least look at herself in the mirror later, knowing that she’d been brave and capable when faced with the outside world.

“It’ll be fine,” Flynn said in a tone of voice that suggested that it might actually not be all that fine.

Lucy followed him inside. After all, it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

Flynn opened the door for her, scanning the room with sharp eyes. Lucy could tell that he was looking for someone specifically, but she was a little busy just taking everyone in.

There were tons of people in here, each one of them looking more ragged and roughed-up than the last. There wasn’t anyone with an eye patch or anything but there might as well be for all the weapons and scars she saw everyone sporting.

Any one of these people looked like they could snap her neck as easy as breathing. She pressed herself just a little closer to Flynn. She wasn’t sure if she could trust him entirely, but he hadn’t made any move to hurt her and she had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn’t just leave her to get stabbed.

To her surprise, Flynn put his arm around her shoulders. Lucy saw a few of the people eyeing her quickly look away once he did that.

Lucy relaxed a bit. It seemed that Flynn’s I’m-bad-news-and-I-love-it attitude was enough to scare everyone off.

“You asshole!”

Okay, well, almost everyone.

“Rufus!” Flynn said, smiling at the very angry looking man striding across the tavern towards them. “How’ve you been?”

Rufus punched Flynn square in the jaw.

“That’s for leaving me to get picked up by the guards!” Rufus yelled.

“That was just the one time—”

“You’re a real loyal guy, huh?” Lucy asked.

“Rufus, that’s enough,” said a woman, hauling Rufus back. “No barfights, you’ll get us kicked out.”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Rufus told Lucy, “You’ll end your ties with him.”

“I can’t,” Lucy said. “He’s my guide into the city.”

“Your guide?” Rufus and the woman looked at Flynn. “You’re playing tourist now?”

“She made a compelling case,” Flynn replied. “Look, Rufus, Jiya, I need to use the tunnel.”

“Oh hell no,” Rufus snapped. “You think that you can double cross us and then just stroll in here and ask for favors?”

“Please,” Flynn said. The word sounded like it was painful for him to say.

“Please?” Lucy added.

Both Rufus and the woman, who must be Jiya, looked at her. “Why the hell are you with him?” Jiya asked, sounding honestly bewildered.

“Okay, look, I need to get into the city to see the floating lights tomorrow night,” Lucy said. “And nobody can see me. Flynn promised he’d get me there without anyone finding me. Please? This is my one chance to go and see it—and I know this is childish but I’ve wanted this for so long, it’s all I’ve been dreaming of for years. Haven’t you ever had something you wanted so badly you’d do anything to have it? Even take a chance on a someone because the reward for reaching your goal is worth the risk?”

Rufus and Jiya looked at each other. Their gazes softened and Jiya ducked her head, blushing a little.

“Yeah,” Rufus said, turning to look at Lucy. He took Jiya’s hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I get that.” He sighed. “All right. But just this once, okay Flynn?”

Flynn held his hands up. “I promise, just this once.”

That was when someone burst into the tavern, pointing. “That’s him!”

Everyone turned, and someone else stepped into the tavern. It was a man in a uniform, a little older than Lucy. He was handsome in a puppyish kind of way, with scruff and soft, dark blond hair and blue eyes.

For a moment, Lucy had an impression of softness, of safety.

Then the guy caught sight of Flynn and his face hardened. “Flynn!”

Lucy leaned in and whispered, “Who’s that?”

“Let’s just say he doesn’t like me. Rufus?”

“On it. Boys!”

Immediately several other men stood up. Very, very big men. Very intimidating men.

The guard looked at them, and then grinned. “Captain!”

Several other guards started to pour into the tavern.

“Oh, fuck,” Flynn swore.

“C’mon!” Jiya said, grabbing both Lucy’s wrists and Flynn’s as a massive fight started to break out.

Lucy yelped as she was yanked forward, dragged through the pressing crowd of brawling guards and criminals. Jiya led them behind the bar and pulled on one of the taps. A section of the floor slid away, revealing a tunnel.

“Go!” Jiya yelled. “This will take you all the way to the edge of the city. Hurry!”

Flynn grabbed Lucy’s hand as Lucy tried to gather up her hair. “Let’s go!”

“Flynn!” Lucy heard the one guard yell behind them.

She rushed forward into the blinding darkness of the tunnel.

 

* * *

 

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , did that guard never give up?

Flynn had some of Lucy’s hair piled up in his arm, his other hand holding onto hers, pulling her forward.

“You weren’t exaggerating when you said everyone was after you,” Lucy noted.

That wasn’t even the worst of it. He didn’t think Lucy had seen her, but behind the one guard he’d seen a prisoner, handcuffed and looking beyond pissed: Emma.

He had little doubt that she’d find a way to escape with all of the chaos in the tavern. He wasn’t nearly as worried about the guards as he was about her. The guards wouldn’t hurt Lucy. They might try to arrest her initially, but he could easily pretend that she was his hostage in order to get them to realize more quickly that she was innocent.

No, Emma would hurt anyone who was with him, no matter how innocent Lucy might be. And Lucy knowing where the tiara was hidden only made it worse. Emma was ruthless—it was why Flynn had teamed up with her—but he didn’t dare put Lucy in her path.

“Faster,” he warned Lucy.

“I can’t,” she said, sounding terrified.

He yanked on her arm, trying to get her ahead of him, hearing the yells and pounding footsteps of the people behind them. If Lucy got hurt because of him… she was just an innocent in all of this, a girl caught up in things bigger than her. She didn’t deserve to get hurt because of his own bad choices.

The tunnel opened up and they emerged in a kind of dry dusty valley. Flynn could see another tunnel on the other side—but they were on a ledge.

“Stairs!” Lucy said, tugging him towards a rickety wooden stair system that had been drilled into the rocky cliff face.

Flynn turned to look behind them—and yelled, releasing Lucy and dodging to the side as a sword nearly cut into him.

It was that damn soldier again.

“Seriously?” Flynn asked. “If you really wanted to see me again all you had to do was ask for a date.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” the guy—Logan, that was his name—growled.

“Flynn!” Lucy yelled. “Catch!”

She tossed him the frying pan. Flynn caught it, using it to block Logan’s next blow. “I’ll have you know this is the weirdest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Fantastic, I love these little anecdotes about your life,” Logan replied sarcastically, swinging again.

Another guard came at Flynn from the side and he swung the frying pan, knocking the guy out cold.

“Holy shit,” Logan said, shocked. “Frying pans, who knew?”

Flynn swung the frying pan again, taking advantage of Logan’s surprise to knock his sword out of his hand.

Logan opted instead to just tackle him.

They tussled, punching, grappling, and scrambled to their feet—with the sword in Flynn’s hand.

He could see over Logan’s shoulder that Emma was still coming towards them. He threw the sword.

Logan flinched, but the sword sailed past him, hitting Emma in the shoulder. She yelled, going down. Logan whipped around, staring.

“See how I chose not to hit you there?” Flynn asked.

Logan turned back to glare at him. “Like that’s a stellar endorsement.” Then his eyes went wide.

Flynn followed Logan’s line of sight and turned just in time, catching the guard’s sword with his hand rather than with his neck. He hissed as the metal cut into his palm.

Logan looked, oddly, upset. “He’s wanted alive!”

“Dead or alive,” the guard corrected.

Flynn grabbed the guard while he was distracted by Logan, headbutting him in the face.

The guy went down.

“Flynn!” Lucy yelled.

Flynn turned and ran towards her. “Swing!” he told her. “Quick!”

Lucy sent her hair out, hooking it over what looked like part of the dam system. “It’s strong enough for both of us,” she assured him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Logan yelled, running towards him. “Is she a hostage? Ma’am?”

“Don’t call me ma’am!” Lucy yelled at him. She then looked at Flynn. “Who is he, anyway?”

“He doesn’t like me much.”

“And her?” Lucy asked, indicating Emma, who’d gone sprawling and was now getting back up onto her feet, murder in her eyes.

“Let’s just assume that everybody here doesn’t like me, okay?”

“You’re dead meat, Flynn!” Emma yelled, charging at him.

“Jump!” Flynn told Lucy, grabbing her.

Someone grabbed onto the back of his jacket just as they jumped off.

Lucy screamed, yanking on her hair to help divert them as they nearly slammed right into a cliff face. Flynn heard something cracking and looked up.

The beam of wood that Lucy had flung her hair onto was cracking.

Oh, shit.

He, Lucy, and the third person landed on top of one another in the dirt. They were definitely all going to have bruises after all of this.

“Are you okay?” said a male voice—Logan. He was helping Lucy to her feet. “Ma'am? Has he hurt you?”

“He’s my guide,” Lucy insisted. "And don't call me ma'am!"

“Logan, meet Lucy. Lucy, Logan,” Flynn panted. “Now that’s all sorted out, I suggest we start running.”

“Why?” Logan asked.

Flynn pointed upwards at the dam.

The cracking noises were much larger now. The wood was groaning and quaking.

“Oh no,” Logan breathed.

“Gather up her hair!” Flynn told him, shoving some of the hair into the guy’s arms. Logan might be with them or against them but it didn’t matter now. All that mattered was survival.

They all dashed for the entrance to the tunnel. Lucy was in the lead, the smallest and fastest of them. Flynn’s lungs were burning. Logan was at his side, panting.

Flynn heard the damn collapsing behind them, felt the water starting to rush around his feet. He grabbed Logan and threw him forward, into the darkness of the tunnel.

There came a massive roaring sound, and then the rumble of rocks tumbling. Lucy screamed.

He felt two sets of hands grab him and haul him forward, just as the rocks collapsed over the entrance to the tunnel.

They were encased in darkness.

 

* * *

 

There was barely enough light to see anything. Wyatt grabbed the girl, Lucy, and checked her over. She looked only a couple of years younger than himself, and she was, well—possibly the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

There was that whole twenty feet of hair thing going on though.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Lucy insisted. “Flynn?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” came Flynn’s voice, a little higher than theirs. Wyatt guessed the guy was just to his right, his voice coming from higher up because of his height.

“There has to be an exit,” Wyatt said, even as he felt the water seeping in and starting to rise. He dove down, trying to see where the exit was.

The water was freezing, and dark. He couldn’t see anything. He tried feeling his way… nothing.

He kicked upwards, his head bursting out of the water just as he was running out of air. He sucked in a huge gulp and tried again. The other two were yelling things but he didn’t bother listening.

His lungs were burning, and he couldn’t see anything, but there had to be an exit somewhere, there had to be, if he could just—

A pair of strong arms wrapped around his chest, yanking him up to the surface. Wyatt coughed and spluttered, his lungs screaming with the need for air. He thrashed, instinctively trying to throw the person off of him.

“Hey, handsome, calm down! It’s no use!” Flynn yelled in his ear. “You’re going to drown yourself!”

“We’ll drown in a minute anyway!” Wyatt yelled back.

Then he heard it: crying.

He turned to see Lucy, backed up as high as she could go, tears streaming down her cheeks. “This is all my fault,” she said. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Whoa, hey now,” Flynn said, his voice gentler than Wyatt thought he was capable of sounding. “This isn’t your fault.”

“If anything it’s mine,” Wyatt said. He’d jumped onto them as they’d swung, adding that extra weight that made the dam collapse.

He had this instinctive need to reach out and comfort Lucy. She seemed at once tough and fragile, wise and young.

Lucy flinched at his touch, and he retracted his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Can I hug you?”

Lucy nodded. “Sorry. I’m not used to—anyway.”

She let Wyatt pull her in and hug her. “It’s okay,” he told her.

He looked at Flynn, who was pushing at the rocks around them. Flynn shook his head. No way out.

The water was at their chests now.

“I’m sorry, Flynn,” Lucy choked out, her head buried in Wyatt’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

“Wyatt,” he told her. “It’s my first name.”

“Garcia,” Flynn offered up.

Lucy pulled away so that she could stare at Flynn. Wyatt stared at him too. “Garcia?”

Flynn glared at him. “You got a problem with that?”

“I like those names,” Lucy said. “Garcia. Wyatt.” She paused, as if contemplating something. “And—and if we’re sharing secrets… my hair glows when I sing.”

Wyatt had a feeling that his expression was just as flabbergasted as Flynn’s. “You—what?”

“She also has a pet chameleon, I feel like I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“A pet what?”

A tiny green creature poked out from Lucy’s hair. Wyatt stared. “Is that—?”

“His name is Mason,” Lucy said. “And yes, my hair…” her eyes went wide. “My hair glows when I sing!”

To Wyatt’s surprise, she then actually started singing. She had a sweet voice.

The water was up to their necks now. She had to sing quickly.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine!”

Lucy finished the last words just as the water filled the cave.

Wyatt took a gulp of breath, prepared for the end. At least now he’d be reunited with Jess.

But then the water around them was filled with a silvery light.

Wyatt almost yelled out of instinct. He felt Flynn jerk next to him and knew he’d seen it too.

Lucy’s dark hair was now glowing silver-white, with tiny lights in it that looked like stars.

Holy shit.

The light from her hair filled the water, allowing Flynn and Wyatt to see—a current. A small current of water that was flowing down through some rocks towards the bottom.

If there was a current, then that meant…

They dove for the rocks, yanking at them, Wyatt’s lungs burning, his eyesight blurring, just blindly yanking and pulling and tugging, his body starting to jerk, soon he’d inhale, instinctively, he’d have to—

His hand felt air.

The water pushed the weakened rocks out of the way and the three of them went tumbling forward, splashing into the river.

Wyatt felt a large hand grabbing the back of his shirt and hauling him towards the surface. He was flung onto the back, gasping like a fish.

He turned to see that Flynn had one hand on Lucy’s back too. He’d hauled both of them out of the water.

“We’re alive!” Lucy gasped, coughing.

“Her hair glows,” Wyatt said to Flynn, looking for confirmation.

Flynn nodded, his eyes wide.

They both looked at Lucy.

Who _was_ this girl?

 

* * *

 

Flynn and Wyatt worked together to set up a campfire to help them dry off after the river. “We’re only about a half an hour from the city,” Wyatt said. “We can rest here for the night, it’s fine.”

“You’re not going to arrest me?” Flynn asked.

“Who says that’s not what I’m doing right now?” Wyatt argued.

Lucy knew she had to make these two get along. Two guides were better than one and as a guard, Wyatt could get them pretty much anywhere without question. “Boys, please, can’t we just delay this whole arresting thing for a day or two?”

“He’s trying to get me hanged!” Flynn yelled.

“You stole crown jewels, what the hell did you expect?” Wyatt shot back. “I’m just trying to do my job!”

Lucy stepped in between them. She honestly didn’t know who she wanted to side with—Wyatt who was in fact just doing his job, or Flynn who’d just protected her and saved both hers and Wyatt’s lives. “Please, can you guys just, stop for two seconds?”

They both looked at her. Huh. It was nice to actually be listened to for once. She hadn’t even had to raise her voice.

Lucy took a deep breath, turning to Wyatt. “Listen. Your job is really important to you, isn’t it? I can tell. It’s your passion, right?”

Wyatt nodded.

“Okay, well going and seeing these floating lights is mine.”

Wyatt mouthed _floating lights_ at Flynn, who mouthed _lantern festival_ back at him.

“So if you could just wait, just a day, that’s all I’m asking, to let him escort me to the city? Then I promise, I won’t interfere. And really it’s in your favor, isn’t it? He’ll be in the city, you’ll have tons of guards you can help to catch him—”

“Hey!” Flynn protested.

Lucy turned and glared at him. Flynn fell silent. She turned back to Wyatt.

“So please? Just this one day?”

Wyatt chewed on his lip, looking torn.

Lucy cleared her throat. “It’s also my birthday, if that helps.”

“Your birthday?” Flynn said. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” Lucy replied.

For some strange reason that made both Wyatt and Flynn heave sighs of relief.

“Okay, fine,” Wyatt said. “Because it’s your birthday, and because I’m obviously a sucker for a pretty face.”

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” Flynn teased.

Wyatt glared at him, but Lucy didn’t miss the way he blushed slightly. “I’m getting more firewood,” he said, and stormed off.

Lucy turned and took Flynn’s injured hand. “Here, let me help with that.”

Technically she shouldn’t be showing him this. She shouldn’t even have shown him and Wyatt how her hair glowed—but then, they were all going to die anyway, weren’t they? And neither of them had done anything to harm her or take advantage of her powers.

Lucy sat Flynn down and took his hand, picking up her hair. “Now, you have to promise not to freak out.”

“Encouraging,” Flynn said slowly.

Lucy wrapped her hair around his injured hand. “So, um, just… just watch okay?”

Wyatt returned, carrying firewood. He paused when he saw them. “What are you doing?”

Mason crawled onto Lucy’s shoulder and just smiled.

“Uh, he’s smiling at me,” Flynn said. “Why is he smiling at me?”

Lucy took a deep breath and sang.

_Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power shine._

_Make the clock reverse._

_Bring back what once was mine._

_Heal what has been hurt,_

_Change the fate’s design._

_Save what has been lost,_

_Bring back what once was mine._

_What once was mine._

As she sang, she felt the power flowing through her, her hair glowing, warm and soft. She heard Wyatt drop his firewood, and heard him whisper “holy shit.”

Flynn gasped and she knew that he could feel it, that the magic was working. As Lucy finished the song, her hair’s glow began to fade, the stars inside of it winking out.

Slowly she unwrapped her hair from Flynn’s hand.

It was healed.

Both Flynn and Wyatt stared at the hand for a moment.

“Please don’t freak out,” Lucy begged.

“What? Freak out?” Wyatt gave a kind of hysterical laugh. “I’m not freaking out are you freaking out Flynn because I’m totally fine this is just all very interesting that you’ve got magical glowing healing hair so tell me how long has this thing been going on?”

Flynn just kept gaping at his hand.

“Um, my entire life?” Lucy pulled back her hair, revealing the one cut lock. It was just a dull, normal brown. No glow, no strange worlds when you looked inside. “When I was very little, some people tried to cut it. My mother spirited me away to the tower where I’d be safe.”

She released her hair, letting it go. “But… but now it’s meant that I’ve been stuck there my entire life. Mother’s been very kind, bringing me books to read. I love history. And my journals…” She pulled her journal out, sighing at the wet pages. “This was her latest present.”

She went to put it in front of the fire, but Flynn took it from her. “No, not heat.”

He held his hand out to Wyatt, who sighed and took off his jacket, leaving himself in just the undershirt. Flynn wrapped the journal up in Wyatt’s jacket. “We’ll need to get strips of paper, put them between each page to absorb the water, and then put it where there’s a fan or a breeze.”

“How do you know that?” Lucy asked.

Flynn smiled, but his eyes were dark and sad. “Would you believe it if I told you I used to be a researcher?”

Wyatt came and sat down on Lucy’s other side. “You were a what?”

Flynn nodded. “As you can probably tell by the accent, I’m not from here. I’m from Enesae, the next country over.

“I did research for the royal academy, and while I was doing it I stumbled upon information—that a coven of witches that we’d though extinct was still active.

“I tried to warn the king but in doing so I alerted the coven. When I came home that night…” Flynn’s face tightened. “My house was in flames.”

Lucy’s stomach and throat tightened. “Oh no.” Behind her, she heard Wyatt suck in a breath.

“My little girl, my Iris, and my wife, Lorena…” Flynn closed his eyes, as if shutting them against the memory. “They were still trapped inside.”

Lucy’s hands flew up to her mouth to try and cover the sound she made. Wyatt made a choked kind of noise in his throat.

“They—they got away with it?” Wyatt asked, his voice hoarse.

“How do you think I got accused of two murders?” Flynn asked. He opened his eyes, and Lucy could understand now why there was such sadness and rage in them. “After that, I didn’t want anything more to do with humanity. I just wanted to find myself a home far away from everyone else. So I started thieving. I knew a lot about how to do it, after spending so much time researching famous thieves and history.”

“But you’re a good person,” Lucy said.

“I was,” Flynn corrected. “Once.”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “I lost someone, too. My childhood sweetheart. Jessica. She was… she was murdered.”

Lucy turned to look at him and saw that Wyatt’s eyes were wet. But he was determinedly staring at Flynn, unflinching. “She was walking home one night. She was the bartender at a local tavern, and the owner trusted her to lock up, handle the till. A mugger jumped her to try and get the money. It went wrong.

“After that—I was real lost. Angry. But Denise… I mean, Captain Christopher. She’s head of the city guard. She took me in, sobered me up, made me a guard.” Wyatt cleared his throat. “I promised myself, and her, and Jess’s memory that I’d be the best damn guard this city had. And I’ve kept that promise.” He gave a kind of shy smile. “Until this one damn thief kept messing up my plans.”

Flynn smiled as well. “Well, a certain guard and now a certain girl with magical hair are kind of messing up my plans too.”

Lucy found herself smiling helplessly as both men turned to look at her, fond expressions on their faces. “I’m probably more trouble than I’m worth. I’m sorry.”

Flynn shook his head. “No. Definitely not.”

Wyatt laid his hand over hers. Lucy had to fight the inclination to pull away. Mother never touched her unless Lucy asked permission first, and sometimes not even then. She didn’t understand how someone could just so easily offer up touch, when she’d always thought it was something to be earned, something easily snatched away.

She wanted more of that. More gentle touches.

“Your lives… make mine sound so easy,” she admitted. “I’m sorry, for all that you two have gone through. I wish I could make it better.”

“You have,” Wyatt admitted, quietly, like he didn’t realize he was saying it out loud. He looked up at Flynn. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry. About your family.”

“I’m sorry about your girl,” Flynn replied.

Lucy saw Flynn looking at the two of them, a soft expression on his face. He looked like he might reach out, to one or both of them, but then he jerked upright. “I should—get more firewood.”

“But Wyatt just—”

He was already gone.

Lucy turned to Wyatt but he looked startled, too. “I, uh, need to…” He stood up and went off in the opposite direction without saying anything more.

Lucy was left alone at the fire, wondering what the hell had just happened.

 

* * *

 

Flynn angrily punched a tree and then immediately regretted it. _Ow_.

What the hell was he thinking?

Falling for—for a girl who’d never been out into the world and a city guard? Falling for a girl who was _eight years younger_ and a guy not that much older?

What the hell was wrong with him?

It was so hard to pull away when Lucy was looking up at him with those big, trusting eyes, believing in him, wanting to comfort him, and when he could feel Wyatt’s pain calling out to him, a pain that matched his own, one that he could understand and one that might understand him.

But he had to. He’d just told them what had happened to him—not the sort of thing an innocent girl and an ambitious loyal palace guard needed to get mixed up in. Hell, Wyat was risking his job just by being around Flynn and not arresting him and God knew what would happen if someone thought Lucy was mixed up with him. And he suspected that Rittenhouse Coven was still after him. They obviously hadn’t gotten too close, what with Rufus and Jiya still being relatively pissed at him but in an annoyed kind of way and not in a scared, evil-magic-people-are-trying-to-kill-us kind of way. But still.

And with Lucy’s magical healing hair… who knew what a group of people like those in Rittenhouse would want to do with her.

No, it was really best if he just left. Wyatt could escort Lucy to the lantern festival as well as anyone else. It would take an actual blind person to not see the shy glances they were sneaking one another. Wyatt had probably been entranced with Lucy the second he laid eyes on her… the same way that Flynn himself had probably been looking at her if he was honest with himself.

But he couldn’t just abandon them, either. It was stupid, but he wanted them—both of them—to think well of him. He’d felt a spike of anger when Lucy had called him a murderer, and when Wyatt had tried to arrest him. Not just because he, in general, didn’t like those ideas but because he didn’t want those ideas coming from those two people.

Stupid, reckless, ridiculous.

But there it was.

He didn’t want them to think that he was just leaving them for no good reason. Perhaps… perhaps he could just get them to the city tomorrow. Convince Wyatt to take Lucy on his own and let Flynn slip away.

That would be best.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt wanted to bang his head against a tree.

What kind of idiot was he?

Two seconds with a pretty girl and he let his head get turned around? Letting a wanted thief go and actually spending time with the guy instead of arresting him?

All right, so Flynn was actually not that bad of a person and according to him hadn’t even committed the worst crimes he’d been accused of but still. He was a thief, and Wyatt had a job, it didn’t matter how charming and handsome and—

Fuck.

And then there was Lucy. Lucy with her bright eyes and her determination and her encyclopedic, joyful knowledge of history. Lucy with her magical hair. He couldn’t leave her, could he? Not when so many people could so easily take advantage of her. God forbid someone find out about her hair and try to take advantage of it.

He was intrigued by Flynn. He had to admit it. And he felt protective of Lucy. She had tons of book smarts, he wasn’t denying that, but the kind of street smarts that you needed in the city? She had none. Someone needed to watch out for her and Flynn could only do so much, being a wanted criminal himself.

He had to stay with them.

But he’d have to watch himself. He wasn’t going to get caught and ruin his career by sneaking around with a major criminal. And he wasn’t going to become one of those romance novel heroines by falling for said major criminal either. And he definitely wasn’t about to take advantage of Lucy. Sure, most eighteen-year-olds had experience. He’d had plenty when he was eighteen, it was only two years ago after all. But he doubted she’d gotten any up in that tower.

So no, but she and Flynn were off limits. Right.

He had a feeling that would be a lot easier to say than to do.

 

* * *

 

Lucy sat patiently, waiting for Wyatt and Flynn to get back.

She wondered what that had been all about. She’d thought they were all three having a moment but then the two men had all but fled.

She wasn’t an idiot. Sure, she’d never had practical experience, but she’d done plenty of reading, thanks. And she could read people. She’d had to get good at reading Mother after all, to know when one of Mother’s wild mood swings might be coming. She had to know when to dodge the storm.

And right now… well, it wasn’t a storm, not that, but it was definitely awkward. What were the two of them running away for?

Lucy sighed to herself, wrapping her arms around her knees.

“Lucy!”

She whipped around, standing up. “Mother?”

Mother emerged from the shadows, pulling her hood off. “Lucy, my darling, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Oh thank goodness!”

“How did you find me?” Lucy asked, allowing herself to be pulled in so that Mother could examine her. Mother patted down her hair, held her chin to examine her face, and so on.

“Oh, it was easy,” Mother said. “I just listened for the sound of complete and utter betrayal and followed that.”

Lucy swallowed hard, the guilt stabbing her like a knife. “I-I’m sorry. I just, I had to go…”

“You’re lucky I could cast a following spell on you, Lucy, you could’ve been lost forever. And with these men?”

“What about them? They’re kind, they’re looking after me.”

“Oh, please,” Mother scoffed. “A wanted thief and murderer, and a naïve palace guard. A couple of dreamboats, really, I applaud your taste.”

Lucy had to turn her head away so that Mother couldn’t see her face. Flynn was sarcastic, too, but it was gentler, like he was having fun and expected you to be having fun too. Mother’s sarcasm was biting. It wounded her.

“I’m serious, Mother, they’re good people.” For the first time in her life, she pulled away from Mother. “They’re taking me to see the floating lights.”

“Seriously, Lucy?” Mother tssked at her. “You’ve been reckless. You could’ve gotten yourself killed. And how do you know that you can trust them?”

“I just know it. I know I can.”

“Well, if you really can…” Mother pulled something out from the folds of her robes.

Lucy gasped. It was the tiara.

“How did you—”

“I know that tower better than even you do, my darling.” Mother dangled the tiara in front of Lucy. “Go on, then. If your boys really can be trusted… then give them this. If they really care about you then they’ll still take you to the floating lights instead of fighting over this tiara. But… if you can’t trust them…”

Lucy snatched the crown from Mother. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll show you, I’ll give it to them and we’ll work it out, you’ll see.”

Mother laughed. “Whatever you think, dear. But when they abandon you, don’t come crying to me. You want to be mature and independent? Then go ahead. I won’t say I told you so, but…” Mother shrugged.

“Please, Mother, it doesn’t have to be a…” A fight? What even was this?

“This isn’t anything,” Mother replied. “This is just you getting to be independent like you always wanted. Go on. Just don’t come crying that I knew best when you’re left with a broken heart at the end of all of this.”

“Mother, please—”

Lucy reached for her, but Mother stepped back, out of her reach, and began to walk away.

She could have run after her, she knew that. But she was so used to the rules—the rule that she couldn’t touch Mother unless Mother said it was okay, the rule that she had to stay where she was, so many rules—all she could do was stare in confusion and hurt as Mother walked back into the forest.

“Lucy?”

That was Flynn. She hastily stowed the tiara in her pocket. “I’m here!”

Flynn emerged from the woods, looking at Lucy in confusion. “What are you doing all the way over there? You okay?”

“Hey,” Wyatt said, running from another direction. “I thought I heard voices, everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Lucy said brightly.

Both men looked at one another, then looked at her.

“Okay,” Flynn said slowly, his tone suggesting that he didn’t believe her.

“We should really get some sleep,” Lucy added.

Flynn crouched down to tend the fire, then looked over at Wyatt, as if silently passing him the torch. Wyatt sighed, then walked over to Lucy. “Yeah, c’mere. Take Flynn’s jacket, it gets cold.”

Lucy nodded, letting him lead her back to the fire.

“You sure you’re all right?” Wyatt asked quietly.

Lucy nodded again. “I’m fine.”

The tiara sat like a lead weight in her pocket. Should she give it to them? But what if Mother was right? What if they abandoned her and started fighting one another for it? Flynn needed the tiara to fulfill his dream of living alone, away from everyone. Wyatt needed the tiara to do his duty and possibly get a promotion.

Why would they choose her over either of those things?

She curled up to sleep, Wyatt on her left, Flynn on her right, encircling the campfire. It felt like all she could feel was the edges of the tiara digging into her side as she fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Here it is!” Flynn said with exaggerated pomp and circumstance. “The city-kingdom of Corona.”

Lucy gaped, her eyes wide. “It’s beautiful.”

Flynn had to stifle the smile he wanted to send her way. “It’s all right.”

Wyatt elbowed him. “Don’t be a spoilsport.”

Flynn elbowed him back. “Okay, ‘Mom’.”

“Mom? I thought it was handsome.” Wyatt punched him in the shoulder.

“Oh, you’re admitting you liked that nickname?” Flynn all but shoved him.

Wyatt flushed, grabbing Flynn’s arm and twisted it, glaring at him. “I’m not—I’m not admitting anything, that’s not what I meant—”

Lucy turned around. “Would you two behave for two seconds?”

Flynn pulled away, noticing Wyatt did the same. He felt rather like a scolded child. “Sorry Lucy.”

“Won’t happen again,” Wyatt added.

He sent a glare Flynn’s way once Lucy’s back was turned again, though. Flynn just winked. Flirting put Wyatt wonderfully off his guard and flustered him and Flynn was rather a fan.

“Okay,” Wyatt murmured as they entered the city. “Try and keep a low profile, okay?”

Lucy looked down at her hair. “Kind of hard to do with all of this.”

Flynn looked at Lucy’s hair for a moment. There was a lot of it, but… it was ridiculous for her to carry it around and have it trailing all over the place like this.

He looked around… ah, there. A flower cart.

“Wyatt, you wouldn’t have some coins on you, would you?”

Wyatt stared at him. “Are you telling me the international thief doesn’t have any money?”

Flynn just arched an eyebrow at him.

“Fine, but you’re paying next time,” Wyatt grumbled, digging into his pocket and pulling out some coins.

“Oh, there’s a next time?” Flynn teased, grabbing Lucy by the hand.

“That’s not what I meant!”

He sat Lucy down at the end of a fountain. “This’ll take a while,” he warned.

“I don’t mind.”

Wyatt wandered around the square, keeping an eye on things. It was kind of adorable, in a guard dog kind of way, how he was scoping out the area, making sure that no guards were around and that nobody would recognize Flynn. He kept talking with the shopkeepers, making friends, joking around.

“What’s he doing?” Lucy whispered.

Flynn smiled as he concentrated on weaving her hair. “He’s making friends.”

“Yes, but why? I thought we were supposed to keep a low profile?”

“You and I have to. Wyatt’s a guard, people possibly recognize him.” Flynn wove some of the flowers into her hair. He’d chosen blue and purple ones, like morning glory and bluebells. He thought they suited her. “Making friends like this? It’s a strategic move. Spies do it too. He’s making it so they trust him. That way if someone recognizes me, or is too curious about you…”

“They’ll go to Wyatt,” Lucy breathed, finishing the sentence. “That’s clever.”

“He’s a clever man.”

Lucy hummed in agreement. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“Braiding?”

“Yes.”

Flynn swallowed around the lump in his throat. “For my little girl. Iris.”

“Oh. Garcia, I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for. It wasn’t your fault. It was Rittenhouse.”

Lucy inhaled sharply. “What did you say?”

“Oh, Rittenhouse. It’s the name of the coven I investigated.” He paused, peering around to look at her. Lucy was oddly pale. “Lucy? Is everything all right?”

“I hope it’s okay, I brought food,” Wyatt said, walking over with hands full of stuff.

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” Lucy said, managing to reach up and grab the food without moving her head too much.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Wyatt noted, eyeing Flynn’s handiwork.

“It’s a lot more hair than I’m used to,” Flynn joked. “But the principle is the same.”

Wyatt sat down next to them, telling Lucy stories about training and how he and Bam Bam would get into trouble. Or, well, Flynn thought that he was telling Lucy. Sometimes he’d catch Wyatt looking at him instead while he talked. He always looked away when he caught Flynn looking at him.

He and Lucy were definitely enraptured with one another, though. Wyatt blushed whenever he made Lucy laugh, and Lucy was looking at him like he’d hung the fucking moon.

But then when Flynn finally finished and said, “there, all done,” Lucy immediately turned around and hugged him in thanks. She pulled away almost immediately though, looking guilty. Before Flynn could even begin to think about why, Wyatt spoke.

“Holy shit,” Wyatt said. “You look…” He floundered, his hands waving nonsensically in the air.

Lucy stood up, turning slowly, trying to get a look at her hair. Flynn’s breath caught in his throat. She looked…

“Beautiful,” he said, nodding.

Wyatt nodded too, agreeing with him, his mouth hanging open a little.

Lucy blushed. “Really? You—you’re not just saying that?”

Flynn and Wyatt both nodded.

To their horror, Lucy burst into tears.

“Oh no,” Wyatt said, clearly terrified.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lucy.” Flynn grabbed her hands. “Lucy, what’s wrong?”

Lucy hastily wiped at her eyes. “S-sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t cry, I know I shouldn’t—”

“What the hell’s that mean? Of course you can cry,” Wyatt said. “You can cry all you want, we just want to know why.”

“No, but…” Lucy looked from one to the other. “You aren’t upset?”

“Why would we be upset that you’re crying?” Flynn asked. A suspicion was starting to grow in his mind. He’d noticed that until she’d hugged him just now that she hadn’t initiated contact with either him or Wyatt, waiting until they touched her. And when she’d hugged him, she’d looked guilty about it. Now she was apologizing for showing emotion, expecting them to get angry with her for it.

He was starting to get a little suspicious of this Mother that was so protective of Lucy. He remembered her in the forest, freaking out, going from elated to crying and back again, full of fear and joy and defiance in equal measure. He’d thought it was just being locked in that tower and loving her mother but… but what if it was more than that?

What if the things she’d said, about her mother being angry, about never being able to leave, what if they weren’t exaggerations made out of emotion? What if they were all true?

“I’m sorry,” Lucy said again.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Wyatt said.

“It’s just—this is going to sound so stupid, I’m sorry, but—nobody’s ever said I look beautiful before.” Lucy shrugged, looking self-deprecating. “I know. Stupid. Mother says looks aren’t everything.”

It was true that looks weren’t everything, but Flynn had a feeling that phrase was said in a particular way… a cruel and hurtful way.

He stood up. “The festival isn’t until tonight, Lucy, and I hear there’s an amazing library here and some museums. Shall we go take a look?”

Lucy gasped, her last of her tears fleeing. “Oh yes, definitely!”

She took off. Wyatt made to follow, but Flynn grabbed his arm. “We need to find out more about this mother of hers,” he growled.

“What do you mean?” Wyatt asked.

Flynn watched as Lucy showed off her braid to some little girls who oohed. “I think it might be best for her if we arrange for her not to go back to that tower.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt wasn’t sure exactly what Flynn meant by Lucy not going back to the tower. But there wasn’t anything menacing in the way that he said it. It was angry in a protective kind of way, like a lion defending its mate. And Wyatt was quickly realizing that he trusted Flynn when it came to Lucy.

The way he’d looked braiding her hair—the way the both of them had looked, Lucy gazing excitedly around her, enchanted by everything, and Flynn concentrating on his work, patiently and carefully doing up her hair for her, making her feel pretty—it had made Wyatt’s chest do funny things.

Things he hadn’t felt since Jess.

Wyatt shook himself. No. He wasn’t going to deal with this. They were going to get through the day, and show Lucy the festival, and apparently also figure out something about her and staying here because… he wasn’t sure. Something about her mother.

Flynn began to whisper to him when Lucy said things, like when she grabbed Flynn excitedly, and then apologized for it.

“No physical touch,” Flynn hissed. “It’s a common kind of punishment. Affection is withheld and you’re not allowed to ask for it.”

“It’s a common kind of punishment in what?” Wyatt asked. “Being cryptic isn’t helping.”

“Emotionally abusive relationships,” Flynn replied.

Wyatt stared at him. “You think… you think that her mom is abusing her?”

“When we got out of that tower, she was a mess. She was frantic about what her mother would think. Now, when we met? She knocked me out with a goddamn frying pan and then tied me to a chair and threatened me. Oh, and she blackmailed me. This is not a woman who lacks for courage or initiative.”

Wyatt kept an eye on Lucy as she moved through the library. “Yeah?”

“And yet she cries when she’s told she’s beautiful and is scared to touch people? Wyatt, you tell me what mother doesn’t tell their child they’re beautiful. True or not, doesn’t matter. You’re beautiful to your parents’ eyes.”

That was definitely true. To a parent, you were beautiful. You were their light. Their sun and moon and stars.

“You’re telling me this girl, who takes down and blackmails a criminal a foot taller than she is, can’t handle a woman who’s probably about the same size?” Flynn asked. “And watch her face when she mentions her mother, it gets all tense.”

Wyatt could feel a lump beginning to form in his stomach. “You really think she’s in danger? But what about what she told us? Her hair?”

“There are ways to keep a person safe without isolating them from the world. Look at Queen Amy for crying out loud. God knows how many assassinations she probably has to deal with. You don’t see her becoming a hermit.”

Everything that Flynn was saying made horrible sense. “Then I say we don’t take her home.”

Flynn looked at him. “You’re with me on this?”

Wyatt nodded. “We’ll talk to her after the festival. I can talk to Captain Christopher, she’s got a wife and kids. She can take Lucy in, or find someone who will. We’ll get her somewhere safe.”

Flynn gave a small, sad smile. “You’ll look after her for me, won’t you?”

Oh, right. Flynn had to flee. Or Wyatt would have to arrest him.

He didn’t want to arrest him.

“Hey, handsome,” Flynn waved a hand in front of his face. “Getting lost in your thoughts.”

“Right, sorry.” Wyatt shook his head. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll look after her. I promise.”

He looked over at Lucy, who was now plopped down right in the aisle, reading a book in her lap.

“I promise,” he repeated.

 

* * *

 

Lucy wasn’t generally the kind of person who believed in absolutes like ‘always’ or ‘never’. The only thing that was frozen was the past. It was part of why she liked history. History was reliable. It was always the same.

It was the present and the future that were so uncertain.

But today—today was a day for an absolute.

Because today was perfect.

She got to run around the humongous library, reading to her heart’s content. “I wish I could come here every day,” she admitted.

Flynn gave her an odd smile and Wyatt turned pink. “I wish you could too,” Flynn told her.

They went to the history museum, where she got to see historical documents and exhibits and artifacts. She almost screamed out loud in glee several times. Once Wyatt had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop her.

She got to try ice cream for the first time, which was fucking delicious and she wanted to have some every day for as long as she lived.

She got compliments about her hair everywhere she went.

At one point they found a square where a band was playing music for the festival. And, well, Lucy had never heard music before.

“This is amazing!” she told them. “I’ve only ever read about this in books!”

“Well, in that case,” Flynn said, “I think you’re owed a dance or two.” He looked at Wyatt.

Of course Flynn couldn’t dance with her, wanted criminal and all that. But Wyatt was an amazing dancer. He whirled her around the square, and soon other people were joining in. Lucy started laughing, all of this joy flowing out of her and filling her chest until she just couldn’t hold it in anymore, and then she couldn’t stop laughing, gasping and waving at Flynn as Wyatt spun her around and around and around until it felt like the whole world was a colored wheel, everything in her grasp, hers for the taking.

They let her draw, too, they found some kids with chalk and she got to draw all over the square. She drew the moon symbol of the kingdom, in blues and purples and silver and white. She was covered up to her elbows in chalk by the time she was finished, and they had to wash her arms out in a fountain.

Wyatt bought her cupcakes, and Flynn bought her a little cloth flag with the kingdom’s moon symbol on it, putting a finger to his lips and winking when she asked him about where he’d got the money for it.

She got to watch Flynn mercilessly tease Wyatt. He got them apples and then assured Wyatt that he’d paid for them—waiting until Wyatt bit into one before adding, “most of them.”

The look on Wyatt’s face was priceless.

She got to read, and read, and read to her heart’s content. Wyatt and Flynn could’ve vanished for all she paid attention to them. But they didn’t complain. Mother always complained when Lucy wasn’t paying enough attention to her. But they just left her to her reading.

It was wonderful.

It was perfect.

If only it could last.

And still the tiara sat in her pocket.

Taunting her.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt and Flynn left Lucy reading in the library to sneak off and get her a surprise.

“You can’t be a part of the lantern festival without lanterns of your own,” Flynn reasoned.

It was true, sort of. You didn’t have to have a lantern but pretty much everyone bought or made one. They were lovely lanterns too, covered in artwork or with space for you to write your hopes and dreams on it.

They bought three lanterns and Wyatt was just needling Flynn about lying about not having any money on him—when he saw the guards.

Fuck.

Wyatt looked around. They were on a smaller street, nowhere to hide, and they were definitely going to be seen… unless they ducked into that alley, but even then, the guards would see them.

They had to do something, something that would make the guards want to look away, something…

It was a horrible idea. A very, very, very awful idea.

But it was all he had.

Wyatt grabbed Flynn, yanking him into the alley.

“What—” Flynn started to say, but Wyatt covered his mouth.

“Guards,” he hissed. “Just follow my lead, okay?”

Flynn nodded his consent.

Wyatt removed his hand from Flynn’s mouth and kissed him.

For a moment it was awkward. Flynn was frozen in surprise and Wyatt hadn’t kissed anyone in about two years, since Jess had died. But then Flynn got with the program, tilting his head and bringing his hand up to cup the back of Wyatt’s head and—

Then it was really, really fucking good.

Wyatt grabbed a hold of Flynn’s shirt, feeling like he was clinging on for dear life rather than just getting swept up in the moment.

He heard the guards walk past. Heard them pause. Heard one of them make an embarrassed cough. Heard them continue walking on, moving a little faster than before.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Flynn.

Flynn took Wyatt’s face in his hands and gently pulled them apart, just a hair’s breadth. “I think they left.”

Wyatt nodded, his face heating up. “Um, yeah, so uh—so we should just—”

Flynn kissed him again, gentler this time. “I only have one day with you two. I’m making the most of it.”

Wyatt’s face heated up even more and he ducked his head. “Should we—get back to Lucy?”

He felt Flynn gently cup his face, his thumb brushing over Wyatt’s cheekbone. “Yes. Can’t keep her waiting. It’s almost sunset.”

Wyatt stepped back, keeping his head down, unsure how to deal with the elation and worry running through him. He couldn’t turn Flynn in. He couldn’t. He’d have to let him go.

Which also meant he had to say goodbye.

But he’d have Lucy, at least, or hopefully Lucy, after he and Flynn talked to her. He could feel her absence tugging at him like a string tied around his heart. He wanted her just as much as he wanted Flynn, Lucy with her light and laughter and good heart.

Flynn took Wyatt’s hand, threading their fingers together. “C’mon handsome,” he said, winking.

Wyatt didn’t let go the entire way back.

 

* * *

 

Lucy clearly hadn’t noticed that they were gone, because Wyatt literally had to shake her shoulder to get her nose out of her book. She looked up at them, eyes shining. “The librarian helped me fix my journal! Look!”

She held it out happily. Sure enough, the pages had been properly dried. “She said you were right to not let me dry it by the fire.”

Flynn felt a rush of affection for her and almost kissed her, but remembered they were in a library and such things were generally frowned upon.

“It’s almost sunset,” he said instead. “Let’s go down to the docks, we got you a surprise.”

“But you’ve already given me so much,” Lucy said, standing up. She was clutching her little cloth flag in one hand, blue with the silver moon symbol. “You’re being too generous, both of you.”

“We like spoiling you,” Wyatt said, smiling at her. How Lucy couldn’t see the love brimming in those eyes, Flynn didn’t know.

Lucy blushed. “You—you really shouldn’t.”

“No, we should,” Flynn told her. “And what’s more, we want to.”

Lucy’s smile made him feel like he was floating.

Wyatt’s kiss had made him feel the same way.

The boat they’d rented was a tiny three-person seater. Flynn joked that meant Mason shouldn’t be allowed to come and the chameleon shot him a look of such poison that Flynn was honestly worried he’d just been mentally cursed to be struck by lightning or something.

“It’s called _The Lifeboat_ ,” Wyatt said as he helped Lucy climb inside. “Kind of ominous, if you ask me.”

“It’s fine,” Flynn assured him. He plunked down on one end so that Lucy was now in the middle and he and Wyatt could row them out into the bay.

They sat there, just sort of floating, while they waited for it to get dark. Wyatt ended up dozing, his head on Flynn’s lap, while Lucy wrapped herself around the prow of the boat and stared out over the water, watching the sunset.

“I could never see it this well from my tower,” she whispered. “The cliffs always obscured it.”

She turned back and saw Wyatt asleep and smiled. “Look at him.”

Flynn looked down. “He looks rather like a puppy, doesn’t he?”

“I heard that,” Wyatt slurred, barely awake.

“A very handsome and loyal puppy,” Lucy told him, winking at Flynn.

Flynn looked over Lucy’s shoulder and saw the lights in the castle. “Lucy. Look.”

She turned, and he heard her gasp.

A small, tiny light was floating out from the castle, up into the dark, bruised-purple sky.

“That’s the light lit by Queen Amy,” Flynn told her. “She used to light it with her father, but he died last year. Now she’s lighting it alone.”

“How did this tradition start?” Lucy asked. “I’ve never heard of it.”

Flynn thought that was odd—Lucy their little historian not knowing about something so important and recent about the country that she lived in. “It’s because of the lost princess.

“Queen Amy has an older sister. She was kidnapped from her home about fourteen years ago. Now every year on her birthday, the royal family lights a lantern, hoping the princess will see it and come home.”

There was something nagging at him about this story. Something that he needed to remember. But he hadn’t been born in this country. What was it?

“It became a festival. Others would bring their own lights as well, and… well, you can see for yourself.”

Lucy looked up at the sky and gasped again.

The air was filling with tiny silver and golden lights, like thousands of low-hanging stars.

“Oh,” Lucy breathed. “Oh, it’s beautiful, Garcia. Wyatt! Wyatt look!”

Flynn gently shook Wyatt awake and he sat up. “Oh, wow.” He smiled. “Every year, and it never gets old.”

“We have something for you,” Flynn added, nudging Wyatt.

“Oh, right!” Wyatt reached into his bag, pulling out the lanterns.

Lucy gasped. “For us?”

“One for each of us.”

They lit them and carefully sent them off. Lucy’s eyes were shining. Flynn wanted to keep that look on her face forever, that look of joy and wonder.

She turned, looking at Wyatt, eyes still shining. “Can I do something?”

“Um, sure?”

“Can I touch you?”

“Go for it?”

Lucy leaned in and very, so very gently, kissed him.

Flynn swallowed. So, Lucy had made her choice. And his thing with Wyatt earlier—well, he was leaving in the morning. You couldn’t blame a guy for taking an opportunity when it was handed to him on a silver platter. Wyatt would think only of Lucy soon enough.

But then Lucy reached out to him, smiling. “Come here.”

As if he could do anything but obey her. He leaned over, and Lucy kissed him—softly, achingly softly, the way she’d kissed Wyatt.

She pulled back, and Flynn was pretty sure if he was struck dead right now, he wouldn’t mind. He almost couldn’t breathe with all the things he was feeling.

A lantern floated towards them and Lucy turned, gently pushing it back up so it could float up with the others.

That thought tugged at Flynn again. Something about Lucy. Something about the princess.

“Wyatt,” Flynn asked. “Anything about the lost princess story I’m forgetting?”

“What do you mean?” Wyatt asked. “Kidnapped from her home fourteen years ago… today’s her birth…” Wyatt’s voice trailed off, his eyes going wide. He turned and stared at Lucy.

“Wyatt?” Flynn whispered.

Wyatt turned back to look at Flynn. “Garcia. The princess’s name was—”

“Um, Wyatt? Garcia?”

They turned and looked at Lucy, who was biting her lip.

In her hand was the tiara.

“You had it the whole time?” Flynn asked, surprised.

“I was scared to give it to you two before,” she admitted. “But now… I don’t even know why.”

She handed the tiara over. But it wasn’t to Flynn. Or to Wyatt. It was between them.

One of them had to take it.

What the hell. He could always rob another castle.

Flynn gently pushed Lucy’s hand so that the tiara was in front of Wyatt.

“The captain better give you a commendation for this,” Flynn told him.

Wyatt gently took the tiara, staring at Flynn, then Lucy, then back again.

Flynn thought maybe Wyatt was about to close the distance again… when he saw it.

Someone on the shoreline.

Watching him.

Flynn squinted. The person was holding up a lantern, showing off their trim athletic figure and red hair…

Emma.

Wyatt noticed the change in his face. “Garcia?”

“There’s something I have to do real quick.” If Emma was there watching him, that meant she knew about Lucy and Wyatt. They were in danger.

“Should I come with you?”

“No, you should stay, take care of Lucy.”

Wyatt looked over at Lucy. “You can take care of yourself for a short bit, right? Stay right on the boat?”

Lucy nodded.

“Then it’s settled. I’ll go with you.”

 

* * *

 

They docked the boat along the shore, leaving Lucy inside. “Stay here,” Flynn told her. “We’ll be right back.”

Lucy brandished her frying pan. “Okay.”

“What’s going on?” Wyatt hissed. His mind was reeling. Lucy. Lucy was so much more important than she knew, which meant she was in so much more danger than she knew.

“Emma,” Flynn said curtly. “She’s followed me. My partner. That means she knows about you two. You aren’t safe.”

“What do we do?”

Flynn sighed. “If we give her the tiara…”

“Then we’ll give it to her.”

Flynn stopped. “But your duty. You’re a guard. Wyatt, if this gets out—”

“Lucy’s safety, your safety, is more important than my job.”

Flynn reached out and gently brushed his thumb over Wyatt’s cheek. “If you say so, then.”

Just over Flynn’s shoulder, Wyatt saw someone darting through the trees. “Flynn. There’s someone else here.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell. Might be anyone.” Wyatt nodded at him, handing the tiara over. “Go. Give it to her. I’ll find whoever this is.”

“Don’t get yourself stabbed.”

“Same to you,” Wyatt replied, smiling in spite of himself.

 

* * *

 

Flynn approached the light of Emma’s lantern carefully. “Emma?”

She stepped out of the shadows. “Flynn.”

He held his hands up. “I’ve got the tiara. I’m handing it over.”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “You know, I heard the most interesting story.”

“If it’s about me then it’s probably false.”

“No, about a girl.” Emma gave a small, cruel smile. “A girl with hair worth ten times that crown.”

Flynn’s blood ran cold. “How did you hear about—”

Someone moved behind him and he whipped around in time to see another woman step out of the shadows. A blonde woman. One he recognized.

“Carol,” he snarled. The head of the Rittenhouse Coven.

“Flynn,” she drawled. “Long time no see.”

“How did you hear about Lucy?”

Carol shrugged. “Oh, you know, just seeing her every day.”

“What?” No. No, it couldn’t—but Lucy’s reaction when he’d said Rittenhouse, the way her mother treated her—and Carol was said to be hundreds of years old—Lucy’s hair—

“She’s never going back to you,” Flynn told her. “Never.”

“Oh, you poor fool,” Carol sighed. “You and that guard both.”

For the third time in as many days, Flynn was struck in the head.

And everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Lucy sat in the boat, Mason on her shoulder, frying pan in her hands.

What was it that Flynn needed to do right that second? It couldn’t have waited? It felt like they were all so close to something, something precious and wonderful, something that was going to take her tiny world and make it expand.

Then they’d left.

Someone moved through the trees. Lucy stood up, excited. “Thank God, I was starting to think you’d—”

It wasn’t Flynn or Wyatt.

It was a woman, one of the people who’d been chasing them at the tavern, a redheaded woman with a cruel mouth and shining eyes.

“Well, well, well,” she said. “If it isn’t the girl with the glowing hair.”

Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. “H-how did you know about that.”

“Oh, it was easy. I just asked a certain thief what he’d give me in exchange for letting him keep the tiara that we were supposed to split. He told me all about you.”

Lucy shook her head, her stomach twisting and turning. “No. No, he wouldn’t—he didn’t—where’s Wyatt? Where’s Flynn? What did you do with them?”

“Do?” The woman smiled. “I didn’t do anything. I just—”

Someone struck her on the back of the head and the woman crumpled to the ground. Lucy stared…

As Mother stepped out of the shadows.

“Mother?”

“Lucy!” Mother hurried forward, grabbing Lucy and hauling her off the boat. Mason retreated into Lucy’s pocket, hissing. “Oh, my dear, I was so worried about you!”

“How are you—”

“I couldn’t leave you alone, I followed you to make sure you were all right—and then that awful woman—oh Lucy you could’ve—” Mother burst into tears and hugged her.

Lucy clung to her. “But my—Wyatt and Flynn.”

“I don’t know,” Mother said. “But… might that be one of them?”

She pointed out towards the water.

Lucy turned.

There, on another boat, was Flynn. Sailing away.

“No,” she said, the word coming out choked. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t!

“I’m so sorry dear,” Mother said.

Lucy started to cry.

“Oh, no, darling, come now,” Mother said, petting her hair and soothing her. Mother had never been so gentle, never had touched her so much and so lovingly. “Let’s get you home, shall we?”

Lucy nodded through her tears. “Yes, please, take me home.”

 

* * *

 

Wyatt tried to follow the figure but it seemed to vanish before his eyes, like shadow. Almost like magic.

“What the hell?”

“Logan?”

Wyatt turned around and saw Bam Bam, with a couple of other guards.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Tracking Emma Whitmore, what are you doing here?” Bam Bam replied.

“Uh, I got lost in the woods, been trying to get back ever since,” Wyatt lied.

“Well c’mon, you look like you could use a hot meal. And where’s your jacket?”

He had no choice but to follow them. He could only hope that Flynn got back to Lucy safely and that Emma didn’t try anything. If Emma hurt either of them…

As they reached the docks, however, Wyatt’s heart stopped when he heard someone yelling desperately—someone he knew.

“Lucy!”

Wyatt turned and saw Flynn, struggling, five guards on him, dragging him away from a boat. “No, you can’t—she’s in danger!” Flynn was yelling. “She’s in danger—Lucy!”

“Looks like they finally caught Flynn,” Bam Bam noted. “You know where he’s headed.”

Wyatt did know.

Executions were scheduled for mornings. If he got a horse and rode fast enough…

He just might be in time.

 

* * *

 

Flynn fought the entire time they dragged him to his cell. He’d caught sight of Wyatt looking like a deer in torchlight with some other soldiers. They must have been the figures Wyatt had seen in the trees.

He couldn’t yell Wyatt’s name or that would break his cover. Instead he started yelling for Lucy, that she was in danger—praying that Wyatt understood, that he’d head for the tower.

That had to be where Carol, and possibly Emma as well, were taking Lucy.

Carol was Rittenhouse. God knew what she’d been doing with Lucy’s powers all this time, what she might yet do. It was so much worse than he had imagined.

He knew, ultimately, that he wasn’t going to escape. He’d woken up tied to the wheel of a small boat, the tiara in his hand. Seemed Emma would rather throw her lot in with Rittenhouse than keep the tiara and was willing to use it to seal his fate. But even if his death warrant was as good as signed, he wasn’t going to be thrown into a cell without giving his jailers a few bruises for their troubles.

Once in the cell, he collapsed.

Lucy was in danger. He’d failed to protect her. And Wyatt, if he even understood the message, had no idea what he was walking into.

He’d failed both of them.

He couldn’t sleep that night. What was happening out there? That was the worst part—not knowing. He didn’t mind dying so much. It was not knowing if Lucy and Wyatt were okay. Being forced to hope and pray, all the while fearing the worst.

Rittenhouse, Carol, had already taken his first family from him. Please, God, don’t let her take his second.

Morning came. He was flattered when there were no less than five guards on him—one of which was Captain Christopher herself.

“You’ve proven yourself a slippery one,” she said. “Given me a hell of a time. Congratulations.”

Flynn mockingly saluted her.

They moved down the corridor, the windows overlooking the inner courtyard. As if he needed to see the scaffold. As if he didn’t already know where this was going.

The guards were all wearing helmets that obscured their faces except for Christopher. The one on his right, holding his arm, squeezed it once.

Flynn glanced at him. The guard squeezed Flynn’s arm again, then traced something with his index finger, on Flynn’s inner arm where the others couldn’t see the movement.

It was a shape. Four small strokes: down, up, down, up, each at a slight angle.

What?

The movement was repeated. Down, up, down, up.

It was… maybe a letter? Maybe…

Flynn’s breath caught.

It was the letter W.

 _Wyatt_.

Christopher stopped in front of a closed door. “Why is this closed?” she demanded.

“What’s the password?” called a voice on the other side.

Flynn knew that voice. It was Jiya.

“This is ridiculous insubordination!” Christopher said. “I order you to open this door right now—”

Flynn felt a rush of air behind him. When he turned to look, the two guards behind him were gone.

“Sorry,” Jiya called. “Wrong password!”

Wyatt took off his helmet. “I’m really, really sorry about this captain.”

Christopher turned around—and Wyatt smashed her in the face with his helmet.

Flynn seized his opportunity, grabbing the one remaining guard and smashing his elbow up into the man’s face, sending him stumbling backwards.

“You look good in a uniform,” Flynn told him, pulling the guard’s sword out and taking it for himself. “But how the hell—”

“He called in a favor,” Jiya said, opening the door. “You owe us so big, Flynn.”

“But you’ll be arrested,” Flynn said, staring at Wyatt. “Everything you worked for… your dream of being captain.”

Wyatt shrugged. “I have a new dream now. One that involves Lucy safe with us and you not in jail or dead.”

Flynn couldn’t help it. He yanked Wyatt in and kissed him.

“Oh, God,” Rufus said, coming around the corner. “I really, really could have gone without seeing that.”

“Jailbreak first, kissing later,” Jiya reminded them.

Flynn pulled back, glad to see that Wyatt looked a little dazed in the best way. “Um, right,” Wyatt blabbered. “Escaping, right. Gotcha.”

He took Flynn’s hand and all but yanked him down the corridor, down the steps into a courtyard that was full of guards and Rufus and Jiya’s band of criminals from the tavern.

“How many damn favors were you calling in?” Flynn asked.

“So very many,” Wyatt told him. “You don’t even want to know.”

There were horses waiting for them, already saddled. Wyatt swung onto his. “C’mon, let’s go save our princess.”

“Our… what?”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

Flynn swung up onto his horse. “Lead on then, handsome.”

 

* * *

 

Lucy sat very still as Mother finished taking the last of the flowers out of her hair. “There. It’s like it never happened.”

Lucy sat there numbly as Mother took the flowers downstairs to throw them out. She felt cold all over. Like she couldn’t even move.

Flynn had betrayed her. Wyatt—who knew where he was. Had Flynn knocked him out? Or worse?

Was it really all just a lie?

She didn’t want to believe it. Slowly she drew the small flag out of her pocket. The blue flag with the moon symbol.

Flynn had gifted it to her. He’d been so… so loving. Calling her beautiful. Braiding her hair. The way he let Wyatt sleep in his lap, the way he let her kiss him, hug him…

Had it all just been some kind of sick game to him?

Lucy curled up on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.

She wouldn’t…

She held up the flag. A moon with two stars. Pretty. Her only souvenir of her ill-fated trip.

As she held up the flag, something on the ceiling caught her eye.

Something she’d sketched, a scene from mythology. The shape of the space between the trees and the goddess…

Lucy dove for her pile of journals, flipping through them, finding her sketches.

There, a moon shape with two stars. There, another one. Another one. Another one, another one, another one…

The room seemed to spin around her. She gasped, feeling like water was filling her lungs instead of air. A moon and stars, the mobile, the mobile in her bedroom had the moon and stars on it, her father standing over her smiling at her—

_Lucy! Lucy come play with me!_

_Amy, slow down…_

_Lucy…_

Queen Amy. Her sister. The one she’d been taken from when she was four.

The floating lights, the lanterns, every year on her birthday.

How could she have been so blind?

Slowly, as if in a trance, she exited her room. Stood at the top of the stairs. “I’m the lost princess.”

Mother looked up from where she was looking at one of her spellbooks. “Hmm? What’s that?”

“I said I… I’m the lost…”

“Lucy, honestly, speak up and state yourself clearly, you’d think you’d have inherited by backbone.”

Lucy drew herself up. For once she wasn’t afraid of Mother.

She was angry.

“I’m the lost princess,” she said, her voice ringing out. “Was that loud enough for you, Mother? Did that have enough backbone?”

Mother went pale. “What?”

“I remember,” Lucy said, slowly descending the stairs. “You went into my room at night. After I’d been so sick. You handed me off to a man. You told me you’d join me soon. You took me to this tower and the man watched over me until you got here and I’ve been here ever since!”

“Lucy,” Mother said, standing up. “Everything I’ve done… is to protect you.”

“Was it?” Lucy demanded. “Was killing Flynn’s wife and child to protect me? I’ve read some interesting books in the library at the city, Mother. Books you’d never let me read. About what your little coven has really been up to. The kind of person you really are. I didn’t want to believe it. I thought it couldn’t be true. But you can’t hide who you are from me, not any longer.”

Mother drew herself up, anger sparking in her eyes. “You are my daughter. Your blood runs in my veins.”

She reached out for Lucy, but Lucy pushed her, making Mother stumble back, her elbow smashing the mirror. The mirror where Lucy had stared at herself in the tiara. Her tiara, now, she knew. It was hers.

“Don’t touch me!” Lucy yelled. “You don’t get to control me anymore! I’m done! I’m getting out of this tower and I’m going free and you can’t stop me!”

Mother’s eyes narrowed. “So, you want me to be the bad guy?” Her hands crackled with magic. “Fine. Then I’ll be the bad guy.”

 

* * *

 

They rode their horses as fast and hard as they could, skidding to a stop in front of a curtain of ivy on a cliff face. “It’s just through here,” Flynn said, leaping off.

“Look out!” Wyatt yelled.

Flynn dodged just as Emma swung at him, emerging from the trees. “Well, well, well, what do we have here?” she drawled. “I’m off to try and take care of the woman who stiffed me and would you just look at what falls into my lap.”

Wyatt drew his sword, jumping off his horse. “Go,” he told Flynn. “You know the way. I’ll catch up.”

Flynn looked torn. “But—”

Wyatt advanced on Emma. “Go! Save our girl.”

Flynn nodded once, then dashed through the curtain of ivy.

Emma cocked her head at Wyatt. “You really think you can take me?”

Wyatt dropped into his battle stance. “Come at me and find out.”

 

* * *

 

Flynn ran through the tunnel, across the grass, stopping at the base of the tower. “Lucy!” he yelled. Praying, hoping. “Lucy! It’s Flynn! It’s Garcia!” Dammit, he didn’t want to start climbing this thing. “Let down your hair!”

For a moment, there was nothing. His heart skipped a beat.

Then the window opened, and Lucy’s dark hair fell down, a curtain for him to climb.

He hauled himself onto the window ledge. “Thank God, Wyatt and I have been frantic—”

Sharp pain, like he’d never known before, sank into his side.

He heard a muffled scream and looked up.

Lucy was chained to the wall, her mouth gagged. Standing to his side, smiling in triumph, was Carol.

Flynn didn’t even feel his knees give out. He just sort of… sank to the floor.

Lucy screamed again.

Carol yanked out the dagger, holding it up so that the blood caught the light. “Oh, dear, Lucy, now look what you’ve done.”

Everything was a little blurry. Flynn clutched at his side. Had to stop the bleeding. Had to—get to Lucy. Free Lucy. She was still screaming through the gag. Shh, it’s okay, Lucy. We’ll get you out…

“Don’t worry dear,” Carol went on, stepping away from him. “We’ll take care of the other one when he arrives. Then our secret will die with them.”

Lucy struggled against the chain holding her, all but throwing her body forward, straining, like she was going to yank the chain out of the wall.

“Do stop struggling,” Carol snapped, going over to her and yanking on the chain. “Honestly, Lucy, this will all be so much easier if you just accept your destiny and stop fighting me!”

Lucy finally managed to work her gag off. “No!” she screamed. “I will never stop fighting you. I will fight you every second, of every day, I will fight you. I will sabotage all your plans. I will warn all your victims. I will never stop until you and Rittenhouse are destroyed!

“Unless… unless you let me heal him. Let me heal him, and don’t—don’t wait for Wyatt. Please. Let me heal him. Let them go.”

Flynn shook his head. God, everything was so blurry. Everything hurt. “Lucy, no.” She couldn’t sabotage herself like this. “Don’t…”

“You shut up,” Carol hissed. She seemed to ponder for a moment, then looked over at Lucy. “You promise?”

Lucy nodded. “I promise.”

Carol walked over, flicking her wrist. Flynn felt himself hauled up and groaned involuntarily as the pain in his side spiked.

Carol dragged him over to where Lucy was, undoing Lucy’s chains and putting them on Flynn. “So you don’t get any ideas about following us.”

Lucy wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck. “Garcia, Garcia, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. Where’s Wyatt? Is he okay?”

Flynn nodded. He tried to bring his hand up to touch her face, to soothe her… and felt something.

A large shard of glass.

He glanced to the side. A broken mirror.

Oh, let it be enough. Please let it be enough.

Lucy’s hair was what Carol needed. That was plain to see. Without it, Lucy was nothing more than a rebel, a liability.

Flynn gripped the shard tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy repeated, carefully brushing his hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay. You and Wyatt will be together, all right? It’ll be okay.”

“Hurry up,” Carol snapped.

“Hey,” Flynn whispered.

Lucy looked up at him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised her. Wyatt would take care of things. Lucy was new to grief. She’d never lost anyone before. But Wyatt had, he’d lost Jess. He’d know how to help Lucy through it.

It took everything in him, but he brought his arm up and sliced through her hair.

 

* * *

 

The thing was, Wyatt had been in fights all the time for training.

He’d just never been in a fight for his life before.

Emma was coming at him with everything she had, and she wasn’t being at all nice about it. There was murder in her eyes, a kind of crazed gleam, and Wyatt knew that one wrong step would end him and possibly spell doom for Flynn and Lucy, too.

He gritted his teeth. No way was this woman getting to either of them. Not while he still drew breath.

He noticed as they were fighting that Emma was favoring her left side, but fought with her right hand. It meant that maybe, if he feinted—brought his sword under, lunged for her underarm…

The sword sank in.

Emma made a strange kind of gurgling noise. Wyatt stared at the blood seeping out.

A little bit of bile rose in his throat.

Emma sank to her knees. She looked up at him, her face contorted with loathing. She opened her mouth.

But whatever she was going to say died with her.

Wyatt drew his sword out, staring at the blood on it. He’d never killed anyone before.

He hoped he wouldn’t have to again.

He quickly wiped the sword off in the grass, and dashed for the ivy.

He had to get to Flynn and Lucy.

 

* * *

 

Carol screamed. Lucy screamed too, instinctively, turning and watching as her hair shimmered for a final time… and turned a dull, ordinary brown.

Now worlds inside of it, strange shapes and shadows. No silvery glow. No stars.

Just dead hair.

Carol gathered up all the hair that she could, clutching at it, as if somehow her desperation would get the hair to hold into its magic or impart it into her.

Lucy saw him—but Carol didn’t.

Mason the chameleon, picking up a piece of Lucy’s dead hair, drawing it across the window, pulling it taut as Carol stumbled backward.

Lucy gasped. “Mother, look o—”

Carol tripped over the hair.

And plummeted.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt was climbing up the tower when he heard the screams. He looked up, and saw a woman—oh God, not Lucy, please not—fall out of the window.

As she fell past him he caught a glimpse of her face. Wrinkled, old, gray hair.

Not Lucy.

The oddest thing was that as she hit the ground, she exploded into dust.

Wyatt tried to climb even faster.

 

* * *

 

Lucy could hardly see with all the tears in her eyes. “No, no, no, no,” she chanted, grabbing Flynn’s hand and pressing it to her hair. “Flower gleam… and glow… let your power… shine…”

No surge of warmth. No glow.

The magic was gone.

She heard a noise and turned to see Wyatt throwing himself into the room. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

She saw his eyes widen as he took in the sight: Flynn, shackled, bloody. Lucy clutching him, crying. Her hair cut.

Wyatt ran over, crouching on Flynn’s other side. “Garcia.”

Flynn’s eyes opened, just barely. “Hey, handsome.”

Lucy felt another sob choke her throat.

Garcia tried to reach his hand up, touch Wyatt’s face. His hand fell. Wyatt caught it, pressed it to his cheek.

“Take… care… of her,” Flynn whispered. “Like… promised…”

Wyatt nodded. “I will. I’ll take care of her.”

Lucy clutched at him. “No, no, Garcia, you can’t go.  You can’t…”

Flynn made a soothing noise in the back of his throat. “S’kay. You know you… made me believe in… people, again. Goodness. Humanity.”

Lucy grabbed his hand, pressing it into her cheek, mirroring Wyatt. “You can’t go.”

Flynn gave a flicker of a smile. “You two were… my new dream.”

His hand went slack in her grip.

“No,” Wyatt choked out. He shook Flynn, the word ripped out of him. “No!”

Lucy couldn’t stop herself. It was habit. Or maybe it was a prayer.

_Flower, gleam and glow,_

_Let your power shine._

_Make the clock reverse,_

_Bring back what once was mine._

She felt Wyatt’s free hand grip hers, holding on tight.

_Heal what has been hurt._

_Change the fate’s design._

_Save what has been lost._

_Bring back what once was mine._

_What once was mine._

She sank her head down, her tears falling onto Flynn’s face. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

 

* * *

 

Wyatt held on tightly to Lucy’s hand as she sang. If only it could bring him back.

He should’ve been faster to notice Emma’s weakness. He should’ve climbed up the tower faster. He should’ve… done something, anything.

He’d failed Jess. Now he’d failed Flynn.

Lucy sank forward, as if the weight of it all was too much for her. She cried, her face pressed to Flynn’s, her tears falling onto his skin.

And then Wyatt felt his heart stutter.

Where the tears fell… there was a brief bloom of silver.

Then he felt it—Flynn’s body vibrating slightly. Silver light appearing where his wound was. Light blooming in his chest, spreading, forming what looked for the barest moment like a miniature galaxy, a night full of stars.

Lucy gasped, falling back, clutching at Wyatt. They stared.

The light faded.

And Flynn’s eyes opened.

Lucy shrieked, launching herself forward and hugging him, holding on tight enough to bruise. Wyatt felt the hand he’d still been holding onto, Flynn’s hand, tighten its grip around Wyatt’s face, his thumb stroking Wyatt's cheek. Wyatt squeezed back.

Lucy pulled back, smiling wide enough to split her face. Flynn smiled up at her.

“I think I like the short hair,” he said.

Lucy gave a sound that was half laughter, half sob, and kissed him. When she pulled back, Flynn turned and looked at Wyatt.

“Hey, handsome. You weren’t crying there, were you?”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and leaned in, kissing Flynn for all he was worth, Lucy’s hand still caught up in his.

 

* * *

  

Lucy stood nervously. What if her sister didn’t remember her? What if she didn’t like her? What if she was resentful of someone coming to take her throne? What if—

Flynn squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be okay,” he told her. “You too, Wyatt.”

Wyatt was pacing up and down. He froze when Flynn spoke. “What? I’m not nervous.”

Flynn opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something sassy that would lead to a petty argument that was really their weird form of flirting, when the doors opened.

A young blonde woman stepped out. A girl, really. Only sixteen. Already without a family. Already having to be a queen.

Lucy inhaled sharply. It had been years, but… she recognized those eyes. The shape of that face.

“Amy?”

Amy came forward tentatively. She reached up, her fingertips brushing over Lucy’s face, as if mapping it out.

Then she smiled, tears in her eyes. “Lucy.”

Lucy stepped forward and embraced her sister.

 

* * *

 

_“The party lasted all week. And frankly, I can’t remember most of it.”_

_“I can remind you if you’d like.”_

_“Only if you’ll also do that one thing—”_

_“Boys. Could you not.”_

_“Right. You know, Lucy wasn’t the only person freed that day. Mason the chameleon turned out to be the guy who’d helped abduct Lucy.”_

_“I still wish he couldn’t talk.”_

_“Wyatt, be nice.”_

_“We made it our aim to take down Rittenhouse Coven. That took forever. And Lucy became queen with her sister Amy. Wyatt did actually get a promotion and eventually became the captain of the guards when Christopher retired.”_

_“They don’t want to hear that.”_

_“Hey, I’m allowed to brag about my husband.”_

_“This is true, he is.”_

_“Well then you might want to mention that Garcia got pardoned.”_

_“That’s kind of a given. And after years and years of asking and asking and asking… I finally said yes.”_

_“Garcia.”_

_“Garcia!”_

_“Okay, fine, I asked them. And I’m sure you know this last part.”_

_“Do the honors, Lucy?”_

_“We all lived happily ever after.”_


End file.
